


This Misbegotten Life

by starlighteterna



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Angst, Character Death, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, I promise I'm not killing for sport, Loki Does What He Wants, M/M, Tony Has Issues, Tony Is A Supervillain, Tony has the perfect life, after being sober, as a plot device, but he does get the perfect bromance with natasha, falling from grace, i.e. Tony, it's not pretty, reverse cinderella, until he doesn't
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-09
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-04 02:41:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1075570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlighteterna/pseuds/starlighteterna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's finally done it. Tony Stark has finally gotten himself into a healthy, loving relationship. With American's golden boy, even. This is it, his perfect life. </p><p>Until one James Barnes is found and Tony loses everything.</p><p>Luckily, with the help of two unlikely allies, Tony's shaping up to be a better super villain than he ever was a hero.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which Everything Is Perfect. Until It Isn't.

“Mmm, you look delicious.”

It’s a little cliché, but Tony feels his heart stutter in his chest. Well, technically it’s impossible because of the Arc reactor, and let’s be honest he created that life support system himself and it is flawless. But if it were at all even remotely possible for his heart to skip a beat when two exceptionally well-defined arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him back from the table he was slaving over, into the rock-hard abs of his super boyfriend, then, yes, his heart would have done a few jumps for joy. 

Tony smiles and tips his head back for a kiss, closing his eyes and reveling in the smile he can feel on Steve’s lips as they press against his. He can’t help but smile in return. He’s been doing that a lot lately, smiling. He’s all ready to sweep off the desk and take this up a notch when Steve pulls away slowly. Tony is a full grown man. He does NOT whine at that.

Steve chuckles and presses his nose against Tony’s, eyes warm and full of affection. It’s sickeningly sweet but Tony feels his heart not-jump again, and oh God, how can this perfect man be his? 

“First thing’s first.” Steve tips his head forward and Tony drops his chin to follow Steve’s line of sight. And there’s the smiling again.

“Aww you brought me a cupcake.” He reaches down and plucks the little pastry from Steve’s enormous hands. It’s a plain thing, chocolate and a simple white icing, he could have gotten it anywhere. Hell, some old lady was probably handing them out on street corners. There was, like, a 2% chance that Steve had made it himself, but Tony still bites his lip and this time it felt like his heart may shove the Arc reactor out of its sheath. 

“Figured I’d better butter you before I ask you out on a date tonight. 7 o’clock? The nice Italian place down the road?” Steve rested his chin on Tony’s shoulder, gripping his waist tighter now that he wasn’t holding his bribery present.

“Oh, the scandal! What will people say? Mother will never approve of me dating a military boy!” He slapped a hand over his still too-fast heart and faked a look of shock, but it was completely ruined by his stupid new penchant for smiling. It was a joke of course; they had told the media months ago and gotten a shockingly overwhelming show of support from the community. For whatever reason, no one really cared. Or no one had been surprised… 

Steve just laughs and presses a kiss to the side of his neck, squeezing him tighter for a moment before pulling back and kissing him again. Tony will never get tired of kissing Steve. When he used to imagine it, back before Steve had randomly cornered him in his workshop one day and shyly asked him to dinner (there were no cupcakes that time), he had imagined having to do most of the work, having to really get his tongue and hands involved. He had, of course, forgotten that Steve had been through a war and a fiery redhead. The kisses are never rough, but they always leave his knees feeling weak. The wet slide of Steve’s talented tongue against his own is nearly enough to get Tony hard. The angle is a little awkward, but Steve brings a hand up to cup Tony’s jaw and hold him at just the right angle so his neck doesn’t hurt too badly while his mouth is ravaged.

He deeply appreciates the practicality of this man.

He brings a hand up and fists it in Steve’s short hair, a little too tightly, but it only eggs Steve on. He slips a rough, gun calloused hand up under Tony’s undershirt and lightly digs his nails into the protruding hip bone there before spreading his hand wide and dipping his pinky under the waistband of Tony’s jeans. Tony manages not to make any embarrassing little noises this time as the warm palm moves south, excruciatingly slow, but at the first brush of fingers over his boxer-clad cock, his tongue does stop rubbing against Steve’s in favor of an open mouthed pant. 

Steve chuckles again and mouths at Tony’s throat before biting down lightly. Tony can’t help but close his eyes and lean his head back against Steve’s shoulder, basking in heady pleasure. He’s panting harder by the time Steve finally wraps his absurdly, blessedly large hand around Tony’s cock, already nearly out of his mind with the beginning of his pleasure.

But, just as quickly as their little foreplay session had begun, Steve kisses him sloppily on the mouth and redraws his hand, ignoring Tony’s whine of protest.

“Save it for tonight and don’t be late for our date.” He kisses Tony again before letting him go completely, moving backwards towards the exit with an absolutely predatory gin. And, oh God, it shouldn’t be so hot to see America’s favorite Boy Scout ready to tear into him but Tony definitely stiffens in response. 

“Oh this is just mean. Not going Super villain on me are you Cap?” He leans back against the work bench and spreads his legs, shamelessly palming himself through his jeans in the hope of enticing his lover back. “Not that it wouldn’t be super hot. Ugh, you would look so sexy in black spandex.”

He can see Steve’s resolve waver as he takes a half-step towards him before abruptly turning and striding off, casually shooting “don’t be late!” over his shoulder. Tony slumps back until his head is resting on the table, not stopping the movement of his hand. He smiles, despite the sexual frustration thrumming through his veins. Steve may be the death of him, but he’s also the best thing that’s happened to him in a long time. 

***

“Wow, you look… really good, Tony.” He should probably be a little more offended by the surprised tone of Pepper’s voice, but he knows she’s right. He does look damn good. But that’s nothing new. What is new is how he feels. Which is also good. Great, even. Fantastic. Having an amazing boyfriend with a shockingly effective puppy dog face and even more effective muscles had really done wonders for Tony’s eating and sleeping habits. 

He’s due to meet Steve in an hour and has successfully showered and cleaned all the workshop grime and motor oil out of his hair. Not to mention his new suit look amazing. Not as amazing as it will look as Steve’s ripping it off of him with that sexy look of his, but still pretty damn good. 

He grins at Pepper across the kitchen table, pointedly ignoring the papers she’s brought him to look through in favor of bragging about his gorgeous boyfriend. It’s not that he’s still in to Pepper or wants to make her jealous, but she is one of his closest friends and she’s always the best person to tell. She really does love to see him happy.

He’s cut off by the alarm blaring from the ceiling of the tower, stupidly loud and impossible to miss. “Nooo,” he whines, actually stomping his foot twice. “I have a date tonight.”

***  
It’s not a particularly difficult battle, but it does last just long enough to completely ruin any chance of getting dinner. So, if Tony smashes one or two AIM agents a little harder than normal or shoves one off a building, really, he can’t be blamed. Thankfully, though, the damages were kept to a minimum and the cleaning would be a breeze for the unfortunate SHEILD junior agents, save one memorable puddle that used to be an AIM agent, totally not Tony’s fault. 

But the aftermath wraps up quickly enough and Tony finds himself lazily eating Chinese takeout on the couch in front of some movie Steve had picked out. It’s not that he doesn’t care about the movie; he just cares more about Steve’s weight pressing him into the couch. 

The others have long since gone to bed and they should probably follow suit, but the couch is ridiculously comfortable and Tony is ridiculously horny. 

He’s been waiting for this all day and he really, really doesn’t want slow and gentle, he wants hard and fast and right now. But every time he tugs at the hem of Steve’s white shirt the super soldier just bats his hands away and presses him more firmly against the cushions with a positively dirty smile and oh god Tony wants. He likes foreplay as much as the next guy but they’ve been at this for ten minutes and he would really like to get to the good bits before he dies. 

He whines, deep in his throat and bucks his hips up in little jerks, but he can barely manage that with Steve’s impressive weight on him. Steve has decided that this is going to be one of those long, drawn-out slow nights and Tony slumps back, defeated. With that little show of acceptance though, Steve grins against his mouth and fucks him a little harder with his tongue just as his hands make their way under Tony’s wifebeater and seek out his nipples. At the first rough pinch, Tony gasps out a little noise and Steve hungrily swallows it, gripping Tony’s jaw with his free hand and tipping his head back for better access while continuing the assault on his nipples. It’s not long before Tony’s whining constantly and jerking his hips against Steve’s oppressive weight as best he can. Playing with Tony’s nipples is a low blow, he’s easily more sensitive than any woman either of them have ever slept with, and it drives him crazy when Steve takes his time to play with them. 

“Please, Steve, come on baby.” He gasps out, tightening his hold on Steve’s hair as he leaves wet kisses down Tony’s neck. 

“You need to learn a little patience.” He laughs when he says it, but Tony swears it’s a threat and whines again, writhing at a particularly hard pinch.

Steve does take pity on him though and slides a hand down, flicking open the button on Tony’s jeans and sliding his hand inside. Tony doesn’t even notice until he feels the rough, dry, hot hand on his dick and even then he can only pant wetly into Steve’s neck, completely at his mercy.

Steve jacks him slowly and kisses him deeply. The tension slides out of Tony’s shoulders and he melts back into the couch, finally content to just trust Steve to know what he wants and to make it good. It’s always good with Steve, he’s easily the most considerate lover Tony’s ever had and everyone always falls asleep satisfied. He might just love Steve for it.  
He usually makes a pretty concerted effort not to think about that though, but while Tony Stark is many things, he is not an idiot. He knows. He’s just not sure how to say it.

His balls feel full and heavy and he’s writhing again, whining into Steve’s mouth and trying to buck into his hands. He digs one hand into the meat of Steve’s shoulder and tightens his other hand in Steve’s short hair, begging silently.

Steve must get the hint because it’s not long before Tony feels a cool, slick hand down on his balls, a horrifically wonderful counterpoint to the hand on his cock. Steve shifts back on his knees and pulls one of Tony’s legs over his shoulder and presses a kiss to the inside of his thigh. When had he lost his pants? See, this is why Tony never thinks about love while he’s having sex. It’s really distracting. 

He groans at the first press of Steve’s slick fingers against him, but ultimately has no leverage to pull Steve deeper as he slowly works his way up to three fingers, worrying a few impressive hickies into Tony’s thighs. 

He finally pulls his fingers out and puts the same hand next to Tony’s head so he can lean forward and kiss him hard. It can’t be good for the upholstery and Clint would have a fit but ohgodohgod Tony doesn’t care. Steve pulls back and lines himself up and Tony arches his back so far he nearly breaks his own spine. 

Tony barely registers the sound blaring in his ear as Steve’s phone going off. He blinks his eyes open slowly and looks over at the table and then back up at Steve who is also staring at the table, looking positively conflicted. 

“No, Steve, no. Come on baby, fuck me.” Tony begs, hooking his ankles awkwardly behind Steve and trying to force him inside. But it’s Steve’s This Shit Is Serious ringtone and Tony’s voice knocks him out of his trance and he smiled apologetically before leaning over and snagging it off the table. Tony groans too loudly and throws his head back against the armrest. Damned Boy Scout.

“You are such a jerk. A teasing jerk who teases.” Steve chuckles and shoves three fingers into Tony’s mouth. He huffs in indignation around the offending digits before fellating them to the best of his ability. Steve is going to regret this particular choice. 

“Rogers,” He clips into the phone, trying to sound professional even though he’s about two seconds from pounding Tony into the couch. Tony wriggles his hips and whines loudly, determined to make an ass of himself. Because, really, don’t answer your phone during sex. The safety of thousands of New Yorkers can damned well wait for Tony to have an orgasm.

He’s expecting their leisurely fuck to turn into a quickie.

He’s expecting Steve to sigh into the phone and say they’ll be there in a minute.

He’s not expecting the strange look that crosses Steve’s face. Or the way he rolls off the couch and pulls his pants up at the same time before running to the elevator, only for it to open without him touching it. He’s also not expecting Natasha to be inside, with a similarly unreadable face. And how can they even exchange what feels like an entire conversation like that? 

He’s really not expecting Steve to get in the elevator without so much as looking back at him, much less saying goodbye.


	2. In Which Unlikely Allies Are Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Thank you guys so much for all the support I've been getting on this! I really appreciate it!! I hope you continue enjoying it!

To his own shock more than anyone else’s, Tony does not spend the night drinking himself into oblivion. 

He spends it reading about James Barnes. 

James Barnes who showed up, as if by magic, in an area SHEILD hadn’t even been monitoring. 

He then spends the next two days ripping apart SHEILD’s entire system, unnecessarily destroying every firewall and piece of coding that he and JARVIS can reach remotely. Considering he pretty much built the system for Fury and did the majority of the repairs and upgrades since becoming an Avenger, he obliterates almost everything. More than that though, he learns everything. He finds every piece of information he had been too blindly besotted with Superboy to go searching for and commits it all to memory before burning it. No copies, no backups. There is a definite chance that the SHEILD network will never recover from his brutally thorough assault. Until, of course, he is asked to build another. 

On the third day he pours himself a glass of scotch and stares at it for two hours. His hands are shaking and he feels like a junkie jonesing for a hit. He can’t process all this information. Sure, he’d known SHEILD was fucked up and more than willing to get their hands dirty for ‘the Greater Good’. He just hadn’t quite expected this level of carnage. Maybe he had just never considered what sort of heinous beast he was working for. 

There’s no getting out now, though. No, sir. He’s chugged the Kool-Aid and taken the blood oaths with the rest of the crazy people and now he is stuck. He decides if he’s going to spend the rest of his life as a pit-bull being ordered to maul babies that he may as well numb himself, so he reaches for the scotch and inhales deeply just as the alarm blares through his workstation, so loud it shakes the lighter pieces of metal. 

There was a time when he wanted nothing more than to be part of the Avengers Initiative. To be someone special and sought after for his talents. To be worth something to someone. 

Now, he just sits and stares into the swirling amber liquid, thinking about how only a few miles away the love of his life is sitting across from another man. How he hasn’t called. 

The alarm stops blaring before he finally heaves himself out of the chair, his spine and knees popping painfully after not having been moved for so long. He should be hungry. People who haven’t eaten in days should be hungry. He’s not hungry, just numb and exhausted. But there are people dying outside and, hey, at least they need him. 

He leaves the glass, still full, on the table. Something tells him he’s going to want to be completely aware for this next bit. 

***

Because there are only three of them and Tony is terribly sleep deprived, it has to be Loki terrorizing the great city of Manhattan today. Because it just can’t be giant space puppies on a day when he really, really just needs a break and possibly a hug. He would totally get a regular puppy if he hadn’t done such a shit job of keeping himself alive. Space puppies would be more durable though- and, oh God, Loki was setting buildings on fire. 

Well, one building, really.

The building that Clint happens to be crouched on top of, to be more precise. Doesn’t Loki ever get tired of being a colossal asshole?

Tony immediately corrects his course and sets thrusters to save-Clint’s-birdbrained-ass. Someone should really tell Clint that Hawkeye is a codename and that is he is not, in fact, part bird, and that when he throws himself off buildings before Tony gets there, he will not magically sprout rainbow parrot wings and fly off into the sunset. As cool as it would be- it just isn’t going to happen.

“Goddamit, Hawkeye!” Tony pushes the suit as hard as he can and just barely manages to grab Clint’s quiver before he makes the world’s most macabre modern art on the pavement. “You can NOT just throw yourself of buildings, birdbrain! One day I’m not going to catch you and you’re going to be spaghetti and Coulson’s going to taze me!”

“Oh come on you were close by, it wasn’t that bad, don’t be such a drama queen, Stark, you’ll get wrinkles. Well, more wrinkles. You’re already pretty old.” 

Tony accidentally drops Clint in that dumpster where SHEILD finds him 2 hours later. Honestly, his hand slipped. Slipped so badly that he accidentally welded the top shut. Of course he’s sorry. And no, no it won’t happen again. Not today, at least. 

Luckily, for once in Tony’s life, Loki seems to only have eyes for the Hulk. It’s weird, really. Tony shrugs of that particular thought line and jets over to where Loki may or may not have been shoving a very large needle into the Hulk’s neck and oh God- that can’t be good. Tony pulls up short and the world seems to slow for a moment. The Hulk’s eyes snap wide open and he grabs the spot where the needle went in before going completely still. This can’t be good. Bad bad bad. Tony doesn’t dare to move, barely breaths, as he waits to see what fresh horror Loki has in store for him today. 

He waits… but nothing happens for a long moment. Loki’s grin falls and he narrows his eyes in frustration just as the Hulk roars loudly and swipes a massive hand at him. Unfortunately, this particular Loki seems to be a clone or an image or something- it doesn’t really matter because suddenly the Hulk’s hand goes straight through not-Loki and slams into Tony with enough force to smash him, hard, into the ground. 

The Hulk roars again and takes off as Tony takes a moment to relearn how to breathe. The suits busted though. The repairs are going to take weeks. Tony sighs, it’s not like he has anything better to do. Mostly unharmed, he peels off the faceplate and tries to hoist himself into a sitting position. Seriously though, the damn thing is heavy, and very, very dead. He is entirely too tired for this shit today. 

“Need a hand, darling?” Tony just closes his eyes because of course it would get worse. It’s his life, how had he actually expected anything else? 

“Nope, I’m good. You better run along and hide while I’m still feeling merciful. Because once I get up, oh, it’s gonna be on.” He has to roll his head back to see Loki standing above him, smirking. And, really, if Tony were a Supervillain and found his most dangerous and strikingly good looking adversary lying much like a rolled-over turtle, he would smile too. But, as he is not, Loki’s smile is just creepy and Tony really really wants him to just not. 

Loki crouches next to him, and still manages to look refined- what the actual fuck, and lays a hand over the Arc reactor. Tony’s breath catches in his throat and his heart nearly stops, but Loki doesn’t do anything else, just looks. 

“You know, I usually make crazy space God’s buy me dinner before letting them feel up the goods.”

Loki chuckles and smiles at Tony before doing something fancy with his hand that makes Tony’s armor fall away, leaving him in his dirty black wifebeater and jeans. He doesn’t move his hand. It’s weirdly cold, but not in a bad way, soothing. 

He’s not sure how long they stay like that, but the tension leeches out of his shoulders before Loki finally speaks, “today I will let you live.” He looks Tony in the eye and smiles, it isn’t warm though, it’s colder than his touch. “Out of respect for what happened to you.”

Tony’s heart nearly stops. Barnes. Loki knows about Barnes. 

“Why? Why do you know about that? How could you possibly?” 

But Loki’s gone before the words escape him. Tony scrambles to his feet and looks around wildly. “Loki! LOKI!” He yells himself hoarse, doesn’t stop yelling until a junior agent tells him the medics need to have a look at the cut on his head. 

He stops yelling, but the nasty feeling in his chest that life is about to get even harder doesn’t go away.

*****  
It’s a week to the day before Natasha shows back up at the mansion. 

Tony’s dutifully rebuild SHEILD’s system and, while Fury knows it was Tony who destroyed it, he can’t prove it, so Tony gets a pass of sorts for cooperating. He’s not really coping with the idea of having lost the love of his life, in fact his stupid heart is still holding on to hope that Steve will return and apologize. He’ll kiss it better and the make-up sex will easily be the best Tony’s ever had.

And then one afternoon and he and Clint are in the gym together, mostly just sniping at one another and not really exercising, when suddenly Natasha bursts into the room and pins Clint to the training mats. She wraps her hands around his throat and squeezes, murder in her eyes. 

Clint’s a good fighter, he’s one of SHEILD’s top agents, but he doesn’t stand a chance against Natasha. 

“How dare you.” She hisses, hands just tight enough to hurt and make Clint lightheaded but not to kill. “Did you honestly think I wouldn’t realize what you two are doing? ‘Too emotionally unstable to be sent into the field.’” She quips, and must grab him tighter because Clint makes a terrible little noise.

Tony finally understands. He had read about Natasha and Barnes. ‘Emotionally Compromised’ she had said. Apparently he hadn’t chosen her. 

He expected to feel… he’s not sure what he was expecting, but this cool, calm sense of clarity isn’t it. He calmly gets up and walks slowly towards Natasha, gorgeous and deadly in her fury.

“You just want to keep me under your heels. You still don’t trust me. You were never going to trust me, and you’re going to regret it.” Clint makes another awful noise.

She doesn’t startle when Tony lays a hand on her shoulder and whispers, “it’s time to stop. We’re done.” She cuts furious eyes to him and, for a moment, he thinks she’s going to come at him. But she doesn’t. She loosens her hands and Clint heaves in air, coughing and sputtering. Natasha and Tony just look at each other. 

“They’re coming. They’re coming and we’re not allowed to go anywhere.”

Stuck in the same building with the people who had broken their hearts. Tony kind of wishes he had let her kill Clint. 

He wishes it more, though, when Steve walks through the door.

Dressed in simple jeans and a really awful button down, he’s still so gorgeous, and Tony is still so pathetically in love that his heart jumps. 

Clint takes the hint and staggers out of the room, coughing quietly. Natasha gets up to follow him, but doesn’t take her eyes off Tony. 

Please, he begs her with his eyes, don’t leave me. They’ve never really been friends, Tony and Natasha, but, somehow, he can’t bear to do this without her. She nods and moves to stand off to the side. 

He can’t even look at Steve. His eyes just fall to the floor, completely of their own accord. He was going to put on a brave face; he was going to be strong about this whole situation. Because, really, Barnes had been there for Steve for so long. Barnes wasn’t a broken alcoholic who did nothing but take take take. The only thing he took was care of Steve, saving him from fights and probably keeping him warm during cold Brooklyn winters. He was a solider for God’s sake. He had put his life on the line to save civilians when some red-faced maniac had been letting Hitler play pretend Führer. 

And what was Tony? A drunkard in a fancy tin can. He can’t compete with the original Wonderboy. And that just has to be okay from now on. It’s not like he isn’t used to it anyway.

“Tony…”

He’s appalled to actually feel tears burning in his eyes and his throat go dry. His chest burns too, and it’s absurd because he built most of that chest himself and it can take a hit harder than this. This isn’t fair. This is cruel. He doesn’t deserve this. 

“Tony, I am so, so-“

“No.” He doesn’t mean to say it, it just sort of slips out. He can’t listen to Steve apologize. He just can’t bear to feel any worse or any more selfish about all this. And when America’s Golden Boy apologizes and he doesn’t just fall to his knees in forgiveness it makes him feel like the lowest human being on the planet. Worse than Doctor Doom, even.

But he just can’t stop.

“No, you don’t get to apologize.” His hands curl into fists and oh God he had meant to come out of this with a little dignity, not kicking and screaming over the inevitable like a child. But as much as he wants to be an adult and accept it, he wants to punch Steve in the face even more. Wants to punch him until he finally feels what Tony is feeling because if he had any idea, any idea at all, how embarrassed he was or how much it hurt to breathe knowing that Steve was with that man in Tony’s house, then maybe he would just stop. “You don’t get to apologize and feel better about throwing me away for someone else. You don’t get to put it all on me and make me the villain here. You don’t get to feel like a decent person anymore.” If his voice hadn’t cracked half way through and his throat wasn’t burning it probably would have been a pretty good speech. It sure leaves Steve speechless and begging with his eyes. 

Tony shakes his head and stalks to the door, prepared to run straight to his lab and never come out again, but he pauses with one hand on the door frame and stares back at Steve, finally looking him in the eyes. ‘Say something. Tell me to stay, say you made a mistake. We can still fix this. Come on Steve… please don’t choose him over me. Anything, Steve. Give me anything. Why didn’t you call?’

But Steve doesn’t say anything, just slowly turns his back on Tony.

But…

Tony was supposed to leave. He was supposed to be the one to turn his back and end this, but somehow, with that one small motion, Steve had taken that too. It wasn’t even his choice anymore. Now he was just the dumb, desperate asshole who was pining over a man who had clearly kicked him to the curb and traded up for a better model. 

“I love you.” 

He means it to be a verbal slap, the final say in the matter. The one sentence that would surely crumble Steve’s resolve and let him see just how much Tony means to him. It’s not a slap, though, it’s a whispered confession. 

Steve whips his head around anyway, face desperate and jaw slack. His eyes burn into Tony’s and, in that moment, Tony could go to him, throw himself in Steve’s arms. It’s his chance to fix this. But then he remembers not questioning a single order from Fury, blindly doing as he was told like an average sheep. He doesn’t want to be a sheep. He wants to be Tony Stark, and Tony Stark does not beg to be taken back. So his lifts his chin and straightens his spine before walking slowly out of the room. 

He doesn’t look back.

Barnes moves in the next day anyway. Tony hides in his lab religiously, trying to invent and sleeping slumped over tables on the rare occasion that he sleeps at all. Since there’s the chance of running into Barnes or He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, Tony’s pretty sure he’s never going eat again. All the way up until the day when his music abruptly shuts off and he looks up to find that Natasha has broken into his lab. 

She holds up a paper bag with a disgusting grease smear across the bottom and possibly the best aroma he’s ever smelled coming out of the top. French fries are truly man’s greatest creation. After the internet. And maybe pizza. Pizza’s pretty great. 

He’s not sure he wants to accept the peace offering, even if he is slowly starving to death locked in self-imposed seclusion. So, for a moment, he just stares at her like maybe he can glean some sort of motive or intention from her beautifully passive face. It’s a waste, of course, come on it’s Natasha, she’s not giving away anything she doesn’t want to. He does see the rings under her eyes though. The less than perfect fall of her hair. He’s been hiding in his lab since the Wondertwins moved in, but Natasha doesn’t have a lab. He should build Natasha a lab. Or a torture chamber or whatever it is girl’s like. 

He stands up and turns his back on her to walk across the room and rummage in the cabinet on the far wall. The bottle is old and dusty, but the Vodka will burn their brains into oblivion and that’s good enough for now. 

She’s not any happier about this than he is and, well, maybe it will suck a little less if they hide away like children together. 

He still feels so lonely that his chest nearly burns with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta-read, all mistakes are mine


	3. In Which Realzations are had

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays! Seasons Greetings!
> 
> Sorry I dropped the ball on updating :/ But here's a chapter! And the next one will be out ASAP, I've written a nice sized chunk of it already :)
> 
> In other news thank you for sticking with me so far and I hope you're all in a safe, happy environment for the holidays

With Natasha as his mentor, Tony can now successfully avoid anyone. Even in quarters as modest as the Tower, Tony can meld into the shadows and scurry up air ducts with the best of them. Except apparently Barnes is some kind of mega awesome super spy, which is totally cheating by the way, so Tony pretty much gives up on evading him and sticks to hiding from Steve. 

The cosmos or God or Loki or whatever are apparently cool with this because no city-destroying catastrophes occur over the next week. A week. He hasn’t seen or touched or talked to Steve in eight days. 

Can you die from not touching the person you love most? His hands itch and his head is all distracted sometimes, which are, clearly, signs of a very serious disease. Lack-of-SuperBoyitis maybe. 

He may or may not be pining a little, chin in hand and staring out over his plethora of cars and dreaming of a certain big hunky manly man. He’s a little disgusted with himself, but Natasha’s lying on her back on the couch across the room throwing knives at his ceiling so he feels like he gets an A+ in coping. 

He still isn’t drinking. A little vodka with Natasha now and then, but not to hide. Never to hide. Not anymore, at least. Gotta be on his A game. 

He’s pretty sure he should be doing something other than staring at the immaculate paint job on his Ferrari. Like building a new smart phone or ending world hunger or something boring like that, anything but pining over a man that, technically, he had left behind. Because no one dumps Tony freaking Stark. 

Except Steve Rogers apparently. 

Tony groans and lets his head fall forward onto the workbench with a satisfying ‘thud’. Maybe if he does it a few more times this hellish nightmare will end and he’ll wake up tucked in Steve’s arms, safe and sound. And no, that thought does not make him want to cry.

The sound of the door opening finally brings him out of the half-sleep he had not been enjoying. Natasha must have been musical in her pre-super spy life because the thump-clang of her throwing knives is oddly hypnotic. He lazily brings his head up, more than a little surprised, because no one had visited their little hermit island since this whole cluster fuck began. Not to mention almost everyone else was on their very strict no-fly list. Clint, Coulson, Fury (always Fury), Barnes (duh), and He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named were all officially banned from the lab. Tony thought long and hard about banning them from the tower completely, which Nat was totally all for, but he wasn’t really feeling Doctor Doom levels of cruel just yet. Not today, at least, but he did seem to be rapidly careening off that particular cliff. 

“Hey.” Bruce is all shy smiles and holds a little tray of takeout food in front of him like a peace offering. Tony smiles in response, even though it feels a little weird on his face now. Bruce is always welcome in his lab, always has been and always will be. He had made it a point to bother Bruce between inventing binges, you know, before. Even when Tony and ‘that man’ had been keeping company, he had always made time to go and check up on Bruce. He genuinely likes Bruce, appreciates his brains and his courage. And, well, his sexy butt. They had always treated each other like equals in the tower, a quality Tony had desperately appreciated before the Avengers were really a Thing. Bruce almost certainly appreciates it even more. He feels genuinely guilty about not thinking about one of his best friends in a time like this. And, damn, he should really call Pepper. Rhodey too. 

“Bruce! Hey! How are you?” Tony bolts out of his chair and trots to Bruce like an over-excited puppy, all smiles and fawning looks.

Bruce grins and hands him the takeout container and, oh God, it’s Ethiopian food, Tony loves loves LOVES Ethiopian food. How could he ever neglect this beautiful, perfect man? He grabs a chair for Bruce and fishes out a bottle of water and an energy drink from the not-so-mini-fridge. Tony doesn’t keep plates in the Lab so they share the containers like they always do, like nothing’s happened. Tony catches Natasha’s eye and waves her over but she ignores him and Bruce, opting to puncture Tony’s ceiling instead. He’s going to need to get that fixed soon if she doesn’t let up.

“So,” He says between stuffing his face with the first warm food he’s had in days, new spy skills or not most of his meals are cold by necessity now. “What’s new in the world of nuclear physics?”

“Nothing, actually, all of my research is at a standstill.” He pushes his chopsticks into the chicken and moves them around a bit, but doesn’t move to take a bite. Uh-oh. Here we go. “I just wanted to come check on you, you haven’t been out defending New York with us since Barnes showed up and I know how much being Iron Man means to you.” He breaks eye contact with Tony and runs a hand through his hair. “I just know that I feel a lot better with you watching my back. Giant green rage monster or not.” Bruce smiles at him, all eager honesty and legitimate care for Tony’s well-being. Such an open display of affection from Bruce would usually send Tony into a small fit of joy and lead to the opening of thousand year old wine. This time it only makes his head feel a little light and funny. 

“What?” It’s definitely more manly than a whisper but not quite the demanding tone he had been hoping for. A little too lost and confused. The rhythmic thump of Natasha trying to eviscerate the ceiling abruptly stops but Tony can’t bring himself to look over at her and have his fears confirmed. He doesn’t hear her get up, she’s much too quiet for that, but rather senses her moving to flank him. It’s a defensive move, even if Bruce is by no means the enemy here, but it does make Tony feel a little better. At least he and Nat are in this together. 

Bruce blinks at him for a moment and, sensing Natasha’s hostility, takes a small step back. His eyes don’t turn green and he doesn’t seem too worried, but Tony feels another crushing sort of realization sit on his chest like the biggest elephant to ever elephant. He and Nat may be in this together, but Bruce can’t be. Yes, Tony gave it to him, but Bruce finally has a home. He has a life for the first time in years that doesn’t include running from the cops or the army or jealous dads. Or any combination therein. 

Tony clears his throat and forces a smile. “I appreciate the concern, really, big guy. Nat and I are just benched for a little bit though while Fury gets his panties out of this ass.” He’s on sarcasm auto-pilot and hands Natasha a pair of chopsticks, hoping she’ll just play along. She doesn’t have the fondest memories of the Hulk, so he’s pretty sure he can count on her to not do anything Hulk-inducing. She may rip holes in his ceiling but the Hulk would level the whole place in seconds and then where would they hide? She takes the chopsticks. “Really though, Captain Eyepatch being a bore is so passé, we want to hear what you guys have been up to. What sort of fiendish fiends have the Avengers been thwarting this week?” 

He’s not sure Bruce buys his hasty cover-up, but if he doesn’t then, hey at least he doesn’t say anything. “Well, AIM and Doom both launched attacks, but you know, nothing we couldn’t handle without you.” He smiles and lays a hand on Tony’s arm. “It’s okay that you’re taking a break. I know how hard this must be for both of you. You don’t have to worry about us, we’re all grown up and tying our own shoes and everything. There’s no need to beat yourself up over taking a little time off.” 

The previously very delicious food in Tony’s mouth turns to ash. What sort of airheaded lies had good Ol’ Fury been spreading here? Tony tries out a fake laugh, letting his face run on auto-pilot for a minute. If Fury had benched them that would be one thing. They wouldn’t have been happy about it, but Natasha, at least, would have listened. Tony would have been mad but probably would have… Well, no, he would have told Fury where to shove his orders and probably have gotten a boot up his ass but still. Fury never runs from a fight. He’s a soldier not a spy. And, suddenly, it feels like they’re playing a spy’s game. Tony doesn’t like it; he’s more of a blow up the terrorists and save the damsel at the last second kind of guy. This spy shit is just too much effort and leaves him feeling like he needs a shower. 

“Thank you, Bruce. I really do appreciate it. But enough about all that boring technical stuff, tell me about your research and lemme see if I can give you a jump start, I am a genius of unparalleled caliber after all. Men come from all over the world to grovel at my unwashed jeans, you can at least come down a few flights of stairs and reap the benefits of your particularly delicious bribery.” He takes another bite to punctuate the sentiment and smiles as Bruce prattles on about something physics-y. Because if Tony knows anything about the massive shit storm that’s brewing on the horizon- it’s that Bruce cannot be involved in any way. He will protect his friend at any cost.

Any cost.

Bruce is brought up short as his communicator beeps out an alarm. The alarm for a team meeting. Tony somehow manages not to reach for his own and smiles instead. Natasha snaps her chopsticks into three pieces and he hands her his. Calm, settled. Nothing’s wrong. They’re fine. Just on leave. Bruce stammers out an apology, obviously feeling guilty. Tony waves him off and leads him to the door, promising to meet him later. Bruce smiles relieved that Tony seems to be taking it so well and, God, but Tony is thrilled that even though Bruce is a genius, he has no social skills. 

“Bruce, wait!” Tony lays his hand on Bruce’s shoulder and smiles. Bruce’s eyes widen and, for an awful moment, Tony wonders how long it’s been since anyone casually touched Bruce. Who will do it if Tony has to go? “Thank you, Bruce.”

Bruce lays his hand over Tony’s for a moment before turning to go. Tony swallows hard as the door closes and stares at it for a long moment. “Nat… What does this mean?” And this time it is a whisper because things are so very, very much worse than he originally thought. 

Her only answer is to look him dead in the eye, and he’s not sure if she’s trying to imprint her thoughts on him telepathically or get him to get his head out of the sand and take a look at what’s going on right in front of him. Whatever it is, it must work, because he is suddenly completely sure that finding Barnes couldn’t have been anything less than a deliberate move by SHEILD. ‘What do we do?’ He wants to ask, but he already knows the answer to that, too. 

He doesn’t break eye contact with her as he stands. They’re in this together, after all. “It’s time to get back to work.” 

***

He’s pretty sure he wouldn't have been able to walk through those ridiculously ornate doors if Natasha hadn’t looked so damn sexy in that dress. He would have worn something as low-backed and sexy as that, but people would talk and that’s not what he’s here for tonight. Tonight is all about a few secret spy tactics of his own, hopefully all of the fun ones like exchanging packages by pretending to make out and getting to taze Coulson. Fury will never see this coming. Operation Tony-Beats-Nick-Fury-Again is officially a go. 

Natasha stops him at the door and fixes his bowtie before laying a soft hand on his cheek. She sees right through him. He’s scared. So scared that he’s losing all of the best things in his life at once. Being Iron Man… He probably loves it more than he ever loved Lord Voldemort, even. At least they’re off having some super secret club meeting so he won’t have to see any of them. Tonight, at least. He grabs her hand in his before turning to face the door. Kicking supervillain ass is easy, Charity Benefits are hard. You just can’t wear a two ton metal suit to one of these. Well, you can. But it makes for a really awkward evening overall. Really just not good for anyone involved. Also itchy.

They burst into the party halfway through and are met by an abrupt and chilling silence. Apparently everyone knows about his big breakup because, as one, their eyes slide to the back of the room where Steve and Barnes are swaying to the music, wrapped in each others arms and looking perfectly happy. Apparently Fury did have a safety measure in place. A damned effective one, too, because when Steve's eyes slide over to Tony he jumps back from Barnes like Steve can finally see the same salivating acid monster that Tony has seen in Barnes since the beginning. They meet eyes and Tony starts to take a small step back, gets ready to run because no one can expect him to deal with this. Just as he gets it in his head to run, though, he feels Natasha's nails biting straight through his suit jackets, and oh god, does she file the damn things into claws? It does the trick though, he stands completely still and let's the desire to curl up and cry forever run over him as he slowly counts to ten. 

Ten seconds and he lifts his chin and smiles his very best PR smile, reaching forward to shake the Canine Angels Charity chairman's hand and inquires after his wife and, oh is his daughter dating yet? Such a lovely girl, he must be beating the boys off with clubs. And just like that, the spell breaks and people flock to his side, graciously greeting Natasha and complimenting her, both because she's lovely and to suck up to Tony. Tonight, he's back on top in this corporate game. It may be just tonight, but he's definitely going to soak it up while he can.

He just wishes he took a little less satisfaction in the fact that He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named and Spy Boy have stopped dancing and are at opposite sides of the bar, looking miserable. As it is, he preens and turns his back on them, enjoying his newfound sense of power. 

Until, of course, Goldilocks inevitably approaches Tony and lays a hand on his arm. “Tony… Can we talk?”

Well.

Shit.


	4. Win Some, Lose More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's just like flying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness, you guys have been to sweet about all this! The big changing of sides should be coming up in a chapter or two, so stay tuned :)

To their credit, the socialite vultures pretend not to be eagerly awaiting Tony’s response. There’s a lot of demure sideways glances and eager chittering behind gloved hands like something out of a bodice-ripper novel. The press isn’t quite so nice though, immediately smelling the blood in the water and circling closer to document every last second of carnage. Tony is going to say no. He’s going to tell this jerk exactly where he can shove his conversation and humiliate him in front of the press and all these people he’s sucking up to for Fury. 

He’s going to hurt Steve like he’s been hurt, and he’s going to enjoy it. 

It’s the press that stops him though. Stops him from ripping back his arm and starting a screaming match right there. Barnes and Nat would have to get involved and then someone would probably have to die, and knowing Tony’s luck it wouldn’t be Barnes. There’s an idea, though. But, public TV murders are generally frowned upon in his society so he flashes a winning smile at Steve and grips Natasha a little harder. She squeezes back for moral support, and he knows he never would have made it through this without her. At least something good came of all this. 

“Certainly, Captain Rogers!” He laughs and does wind up pulling back his arm to lay it over Natasha’s hand on his arm. A subtle snub but he looked damn classy doing it. Tony Stark knows class, it’s a given in the universe. Like gravity. Or Natasha slaughtering their enemies like the alpha lioness who doesn’t need a male lion anywhere near her pride. He smiles once more and looks Steve dead in the eyes, it’s a challenge Steve can’t take. “No need to be so formal, Captain. It’s not like you broke my heart into billions of pieces or anything.” Tony laughs, so, hesitantly, the press and the charity mongers begin to laugh too, but Tony carefully looks around for the general opinion. Pity and sympathy for him and tightly drawn lips with narrowed eyes for Steve. 

Well, Captain, this appears to be checkmate for the evening. 

Predictably, the press mob him after that, kinder than they normally are, decidedly gentle with his poor broken heart and all that. With all the fuss, even though he had agreed to a little chat with Steve, it never came to fruition. He sipped champagne and laughed along with everyone, pretending not to notice when Barnes finally led Steve, still sulking, out of the room. He had been struck by Tony’s words, reeled back like he’d been burned and taken refuge with Barnes still looking positively ghastly. Tony frowns a little and stares into his glass, swirling it idly. It didn’t feel as good as he had hoped. He stares after them for a long moment, and God, he would still give anything to be the one leading Steve home. They had left enough of these damned things together and Tony knows exactly how it would go, the easy banter, peeling each other out of their suits, and then the rough, possessive sex because Steve never quite got over all the people running hands over Tony at these things. Tonight, though, Steve will be having possessive sex with Barnes and Tony will be in his lab, trying to create something to improve the lives of millions. He can’t even improve his own life. He holds perfectly still, terrified that if he moves he’ll start crying or slaughtering innocent dishes or something else equally bad. 

Until something equally bad comes stalking back through the door in the form on one James Barnes. 

“You think you’re real slick, don’t you Stark? Think you get some kind of moral high ground here?” He’s lumbering quickly towards them and there is a fight in his eyes. Tony pulls his arm back from Natasha and feels her reaching for one of the hundreds of weapons she must have stashed on her in that sexy dress. Let’s face it though; he’s pretty useless without the suit, so he’s just gonna have to leave this to the competent superspy. 

But when Barnes is about two yards away from Tony, something almost scarier than Natasha happens. Pepper Potts steps between Barnes and Tony. Tony can’t see her face, but Barnes takes a step back, so he guesses it must be terrifying. Her dress is gorgeous too though and he wonders if he paid for it, so midnight blue, off the shoulders and formfittingly good. 

“You seem to have had too much to drink, Mr…?” She trails off and it’s not a very original snub but it always does the trick. Tony grins behind his champagne glass as Barnes flounders for a moment, obviously not used to terrifying women in very pretty dresses threatening to verbally eviscerate him. 

He can see the moment when Barnes decides that this tiny woman isn’t a threat, and oh man, Tony almost feels sorry for him. He straightens his shoulders and lumbers over Pepper who’s nursing a champagne glass of her own, even though Tony knows it’s just for show. “James Barnes, ma’am but stand asi-“

“Mr. Barnes, then.” She raises her voice and effectively cuts him off. “Well, Mr. Barnes, I’m afraid I don’t recognize that name and, seeing as you came in here and threatened a very dear friend of mine, I’m afraid I must ask you to leave. How ever did you get in? I employ security to keep the animals out.” 

Everyone in the room goes completely silent, trying to stifle hysterical giggles. Barnes’ eyes go wide and his face contorts after a second. “Look here missy-“

“I’m sorry, was I unclear? Get out, Mr. Barnes and do not come back.” And with that, Pepper turns her back on him and slowly walks over to Tony and Natasha, heels clicking absurdly loud in the near-silent room. 

To the shock of no one involved, Barnes turns and quietly leaves the room. Tony tries not to think about how he’s going to Steve, this should be a victory for him, a celebration, not a reminder of how they’ll be comforting each other tonight and saying nasty things about Tony. The desperate ex who couldn’t even be civil at a public function. 

“Tony.” Pepper acknowledges in greeting and reaches up to fix his bowtie, but he hugs her instead, nearly crushing her to him. He hasn’t seen Pepper since the breakup, if you can even call it that. He knows she’s been worried about him in the way that she wraps her arms around him and hugs him back, too tight for a second, before loosening up and running a hand over his back instead. God bless Pepper Potts, she always knows what he needs. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t called.” He whispers into her hair, stupidly close to tears in the arms of his best friend. 

“You should be. I was so worried.” She pushes off his shoulders and looks him in the eye, all stern and intimidating and it makes him smile before grabbing her again, and nearly picking her up off the floor. He smiles at Natasha who shakes her head and hides a smile of her own. He may not have a muscly supersoldier in his bed tonight, but he does have the two most amazing people on the planet by his side, and, somehow, it’s enough. 

***

Pepper stars coming by the lab after the night of the charity. He has mixed feelings because, on the one hand, he loves Pepper, he would have Pepper’s babies if it were biologically possible, but on the other hand she always brings healthy food and stares at Tony and Natasha until they finish it because apparently, ‘you CAN’T eat pizza and French fries for every meal, even if you are a superhero with a shortened life expectancy.’ 

Tony is pretty sure he can, but he and Natasha bend to Pepper’s will anyway. Bruce is thrilled about the change in food though, because he lived in a country that shunned French fries for being Satan’s testicles or something. Tony doesn’t know and doesn’t care, but he is not a rabbit and as such will not spend the rest of his life eating chicken sandwiches. 

They don’t talk much, even though they spend entire days cooped up in the lab together. They mostly talk over meals or if Tony blows something up. Other than that, they work on their own projects. Pepper does paperwork in a (mostly) uninterrupted environment, Bruce does something physicsy, and Natasha still mostly throws knives at the ceiling. Tony really needs to call a contractor or put metal plating over the entirety of the ceiling. 

They go on like this for a few weeks, relaxing in each other’s company, especially since Tony and Natasha still aren’t being told about invaders. They’re pretty sure Bruce knows the truth, but if he does, he never mentions it when his communicator goes off and he has to slide out of the room. Until, of course, some kind of space army is found trying to slaughter Loki in the center of New York. Fury can’t even pretend to handle this one alone and, just like that, the band is back together again. 

***

Tony isn’t sure whether or not to be happy that Steve pretends nothing’s happened and just works him and Natasha back into the team with flawless skill. The army isn’t huge, just ungodly ugly and a particularly gross shade of green. And the spikes and slime eeew. They don’t seem particularly resistant to repulsor blasts, so Tony has a field day sniping them from above, like burning ants with a microscope. But, of course, these ants are tearing down buildings and just generally being awful so he doesn’t feel all that bad. 

“Any sign of Loki?” It’s Barnes, so Tony doesn’t grace him with an answer, just keeps picking off the stragglers and occasionally blasting a hole in the middle of a group, you know, just to keep things interesting. The hulk seems a good bit less happy about it all, even though he’s getting to smash as much as his jolly green heart could desire. The aliens are a little on the small side, must not be as satisfying for him. He hasn’t seen Natasha or Clint, but he hears them every once in a while over the comms so he assumes they’re okay and Nat hasn’t accidentally shoved him off a building yet. Not that that wouldn’t fall under the definition of ‘okay’ but still. 

As fate would have it, though, Tony finds Loki before he finds Nat. He’s totally prepared to gloat and haul Loki in kicking and screaming, to be heralded as a hero and get a little good press from singlehandedly apprehending a God. god. Whatever. But, as he lights down and calls out a casual, ”Well, hello princess. Fancy meeting you here.” Loki doesn’t rise to take the bait. If anything he slumps over more, curled over himself and clutching his abdomen. 

Tony doesn’t want to feel apprehensive or concerned that Loki’s hurt. He wants to strut over and grab him by the throat and make him pay for invading New York. For making Tony ride a missile into outer space and all of the nights he woke up screaming after. But, really, that part hadn’t been Loki’s fault so doesn’t feel but so bad lifting the face plate and laying a hand on Loki’s back. 

“Are you, um, okay? Are God’s ever not okay? But like do you need something? Water? Blood of a virgin? Couple cats?” Loki huffs out a laugh and falls to his knees, wincing with pain. Tony catches him and lowers him all the way to the ground, back propped up on the raised are around the edge of the otherwise flat roof. 

“How noble of you.” Loki smirks but Tony rolls his eyes. Never too sick for jokes, this one. 

“Never could resist a damsel in distress.” He gently moves one of Loki’s hands aside and, oh ew gross, those are intestines. Tony whistles, “Wow, who did you piss off?” He tears off a bit of Loki’s coat, ignoring the still pretty terrifying glare he gets for doing it and presses it against the wound. Not very sanitary, but more effective than fingers. 

“An army, it would seem. Steal one little artifact and suddenly and entire planet’s after you. I only need a moment to heal this, though your concern is much appreciated. Who knew you to be such a compassionate creature? You may go, your assistance is not required.” Ever a sarcastic drama queen. Tony rolls his eyes again at the mocking tone and presses the coat a little harder against Loki’s eviscerated stomach, enjoying the noise he makes. 

“I could also haul you into SHEILD with relative ease, you know.”

Loki laughs again, stronger every second he rests. “Darling, we both know if you were going to, you would already have done it. I saved your life last time and this is how you’re repaying me. Noble, really.” 

Well, can’t argue with that. 

Tony shrugs and opens his mouth to agree when Loki’s face suddenly turns serious. “Take this, Stark. Keep it safe.” He presses a hard little bundle, wrapped in grimy cloth into Tony’s gauntleted hand. Tony stares at it for a moment and then looks suspiciously at Loki.

“Dude, this is obviously what you stole from these people. I could literally fly down, hand it to the leader, and get these assholes off my planet.”

Loki grins again, despite Tony’s Serious Tone. “But you won’t.”

“You literally know nothing about me other than that I’m devilishly handsome and have a metal suit. You cannot possibly know that.”

“And yet,” He looks Tony dead in the eye and then lays his hand over Tony’s on his stomach. His touch is unbearably warm and Tony tries to jerk back his hand just before the blistering heat turns into an odd tingling. Loki’s grip lets up and Tony lifts his hand to see Loki’s abdomen fully healed all gooey parts back on the inside. 

He flexes his fingers a few times, tying to chase away the pleasant aftershocks. “Neat trick.”

“Oh, I have many more impressive tricks, Stark.” And, oh, is that an invitation Tony hears? From what he’s heard of Jane and Thor going at it, Asgard breeds ‘em big and strong. He really shouldn’t be as tempted by this as he is.

“Not sure you could handle all my tricks, princess.” 

“And isn’t that just a cozy offer.” They break away from their near-lusty staring match simultaneously to stare at one James Barnes who has somehow managed to climb on the one fucking roof that would ruin Tony’s day. 

“Go.” He whispers and pulls away. “Go right now.” He stands and moves in front of Loki, squaring off with Barnes. Loki may be healed but he still isn’t in fighting shape, and he’s right, he could have been rid of Tony last time. Repaying debts and all that. 

Loki hesitates. Tony can’t believe it, but Loki is completely still for a moment, pulled up into a crouch and staring up at him. Tony manages a smile though. “Not going soft on me now, are you princess?” And Loki’s gone.

Tony clenches his hand and feels the parcel there before sliding it into the small compartment off to the side of the armor. It’s not really meant to transport alien cargo but, hey, creativity and improvisation and all that jazz. 

“Fraternizing with the enemy, Stark? Can’t say I’m surprised. I mean a whore like you and all.”

It’s not like Tony doesn’t want to be an adult about this and use his words. But, really, words are overrated so he fires a repulsor blast Barnes instead. Unfortunately, he barely dodges, but it still leaves a nasty burn on his arm, so that’s something. 

“Look, Barnes, you’re new here so you don’t know me. And, yeah, I’ve been licking my wounds since you showed up and kinda, you know, wrecked my life. But don’t mistake that for weakness because I will kill you and hang your carcass under an American flag somewhere.” 

“Big talk. Too bad you can’t back it up.”

“Oh I’ll back it up.” He charges another repulsor blast, but Barnes is so fast and the EMP is so well-designed that Tony doesn’t stand a chance. The suit shorts out and gets incredibly heavy, he still doesn’t have the faceplate down, so he doesn’t know if the power’s completely gone dark, but it feels like it has. “Who?” He whispers.

“Fury sends his regards.” 

Tony doesn’t see the blade before it slides between the plates of the armor, a weak spot he had been meaning to fix but no one should know that. It’s cold, but that may have just been the shock setting in. 

“Goodbye, Stark.” 

And then he shoves Tony off the side of the roof, bleeding out in his metal prison. 

He’s still awake when he hits the ground.


	5. In Which Things Come To Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's not dead. For the first bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Sorry about this one. I'm not super happy with how this came out, so I'll get the next one up ASAP :/
> 
> As always, you guys are awesome! Thank you so much for your support!!

He awakens to the sound of a slamming door. And then some rummaging. A lot of rummaging, actually, seriously he is trying to sleep here and everything kind of hurts and everyone else in the world just needs to shut up and go somewhere else. He was going to say all of this, but as he breathes in to get started on his tirade, he realizes his chest more than just kind of hurts. It really hurts. Really, really bad. He groans in pain and manages to open his eyes, but they’re all sticky on the outside and dry on the inside and it just isn’t pleasant. 

“Tony!” Bruce dives into focus after being a series of oddly colored blotches that make Tony feel like he may need glasses in the near future. The bare, white hospital room, though, he could have done without seeing. “Tony, you have to listen to me, we don’t have much time. You’re under investigation from SHEILD. Barnes says he saw you with Loki and Loki ordered you to attack him so he could escape.” Tony’s head lolls to the side, he’s too tired and hurty to deal with SHEILD political bullshit. “Tony listen to me this is important, they think you’re a terrorist.” Well. That gets his attention. 

“ ’M not a terrorist.” He slurs, but God the world is hazy and he feels more than a little nauseous. 

“Well, I know that and you know that, but Fury doesn’t know that. Actually, I suspect he knows it too and is just playing you up as a terrorist so he can have it shot down and propose the more plausible option; that you’re under Loki’s control.” 

“Why?” The world is slowly becoming clearer but it’s really hard to follow what Bruce is saying when he’s moving around and doing things with things and rattling plastic. “Why are you stuffing a urine bag into a backpack?”

“Okay, Tony, look I know you’re all loopy on medication and head wounds right now, but you need to focus. He’s trying to convince them you’re compromised.”

“Fell off a building. Was cognitive recalibration or whatever.” His head hurts, but the urgency in Bruce’s tone is helping him push through the fog. Unfortunately the fog seemed to be masking the worst of the pain. But also fortunately the pain was helping wake him up a little. Checks and balances man.

“He’s saying it didn’t work. He’s telling everyone that Loki fixed it so that it would take time to ‘heal’ you or something, I don’t know. Now this is really important, Tony. They’re going to try and make you take medication, Tony, do not take it. It’s really bad news, okay? You’re going to wind up a vegetable because it’s a modified form of old psychosis medication.”

“This is ridiculous. Loki doesn’t even have the scepter anymore. No one’s going to believe this, Bruce. He can’t possibly get away with this.” Now he feels fully awake, and his heart’s beating a little too fast. No one will believe this crap. Fury’s really reaching this time. “Where’s Nat?”

“Tony, no one needs to believe it. He has a staff full of doctors willing to tell any and every one that you’re dangerous and unstable. They won’t let anyone in to see you, and by the time they do, you’re going to be a vegetable from these meds. No doctor in the world would be able to declare you competent. Nat’s in a holding cell downstairs, she was, uh, frustrated that they wouldn’t let her see you. She may have broken through a reinforced steel door and almost killed eight guards.” Bruce hands him an orange bottle of pills. “Hide these and replace them with whatever they give you. They’ll be running urine tests to see if you’re taking your medication and I can help with that so don’t worry. Just take these instead of the pills and get ready to get out of here as soon as possible, okay?” 

“No, no, Bruce this is crazy. You need to calm down because you’re having some kind of panic attack or breakdown or something. What possible motive could Fury have for this? We have pissing matches and get under each other’s skin, not try and kill each other.” He grabs Bruce’s wrist beside the bed to keep him from moving, to calm him or something because he has obviously lost every single one of his green rage monster marbles. “I’m an asset, Bruce. I help save the world and rescue kittens from trees, every time I ride a missile in to space it makes him look good.”

_Fury sends his regards_

There’s no way. He puts a hand to his head- or, well, he tries to put a hand to his head, but they’re strapped to the hospital bed and the panic begins to set in. What if Bruce is right? But why WHY would Fury want to have him declared insane? What possible motive could there be? Bruce reaches down and loosens the restraints just enough that Tony can work his hands out and he’s absurdly grateful. 

“I don’t know, Tony. I’m telling you the truth though, I’m not making this up. You’re in danger. You need to take Natasha and go, right now.”

There’s something in his head. He knows why, but it’s like a word on the tip of his tongue. Right there, but so elusive. He fists his hair in one hand and runs back through every memory of the past months, trying to remember why he isn’t as surprised by this as he should be. What does Fury want most, what is so important that he would permanently bench one of his star players? Something better than Iron Man. A weapon better than Iron Man.

“Weapons.” He whispers and puts a hand over his mouth. “Fury wants weapons. Alien-grade weapons. He asked me months ago and I refused, I don’t make weapons anymore. He has warehouses full of nukes and tanks but there’s no guarantee it’ll stop an alien, I broke into the system – after Steve- and read all the data. He can’t design anything like I could.” But my top research and development guys could. The veterans who I worked with, who dad worked with. They would know the process. It wouldn’t be the same, or terribly innovative, but it would be enough. They’re loyal, though. They wouldn’t start making weapons of mass destruction unless the company told them to. Tony pays them well enough to ensure it. 

Killing Tony would make stock prices skyrocket- everyone loves a martyr. But a disgraced lunatic that Pepper would never kick to the curb? A fight to get him back that she would eagerly and ruthlessly spend millions of dollars fighting. She would bankrupt the whole company, but it wouldn’t matter. Fury would tell everyone Tony had been working for Loki. Shareholders would flee in droves and they would be hemorrhaging money within the month. The board of directors would just give the company to him. 

He snaps his eyes up to Bruce. “You need to get Natasha out. Get her free and tell her that Fury is after Stark Industries.”

***

He’s gotten his hands on a pen and paper by the time Natasha bursts into the room with considerably less grace than normal. He carefully folds the slip of paper and hides it in his hand as Nat stalks over and rips the covers off him and hesitates for a second before handing him a thick manila folder. 

A folder.

Like, a real hardcopy folder. Who even uses these anymore? But, of course. A paper copy. When you want to hide something like corporate espionage from a technological genius you wouldn’t put it in a digital database. You would use paper. Tony hates paper.

But Natasha, on the other hand, specializes in stealing paper from drug lords and mafia bosses. Their friendship has been a freak accident, but, somehow, Fury had predicted it. Tony doesn’t open the folder, he already knows most of what’s inside it: notes detailing Fury’s plans for taking over Stark Industries, and notes on how Natasha is the best superspy to ever spy. Coulson could be trusted to keep Clint out of the file, but Natasha was a whole other animal. Especially with the extra motivation from Barnes’ arrival she would have discovered the whole plan and probably blown it to hell out of pure spite. If she had been staying on the Helicarrier, that is. So Fury made sure she wouldn’t be. Clever bastard. He hands her back the file and she tucks it into her catsuit for safe keeping.

“Come on, I’ll carry you out.” She’s trying to be all business but she smiles when he hauls himself up on his elbows-oh God that hurts. The suit may have protected him from the worst of the impact, but he’s still at least cracked a few ribs and really probably shouldn’t be moving. His stitches open almost immediately and he starts oozing blood all over the nice, white hospital sheets. Hah, take that SHEILD. Sneaking out of your infirmary, getting blood on all your nice things.

He stops and heaves in a few breaths, trembling with the effort. It’s at that moment that he knows he isn’t making it out of here. Maybe if Barnes hadn’t stabbed him, but, of course, that’s exactly why he did it. Natasha reaches out and grabs his face in her hands, looking him sternly in the eyes like she can read his thoughts. And maybe they teach that at SHEILD training or super Russian spy school because she’s stupidly good at seeing through him and Tony likes to think he’s a man with layers. A complex, deep sort of person with infinite surprises up his bloody sleeves.

The last thing he wants is to leave her alone in all this. He chokes out a laugh, two fully grown adults being this codependent on each other and not having hot, wild monkey sex is absurd. And, really, hot, wild monkey sex with Natasha would actually be the best thing if he could survive it. He opens his mouth to say as much but she stops him with a look.

“I’m not sleeping with you, Stark.”

“Oh come on, I almost died. Your batshit crazy ex-boyfriend pushed me off a roof and I feel like I should get a little retribution!” He whines.

“Fine. I’ll let you hit Barnes at least once before I kill him. Is that good enough for retribution?”

“Can I wear the suit?”

“Sure, why not?”

“You’re like the scary Russian Santa from that Disney movie about Jack Frost. Scary and Russian, but still full of presents, and I haven’t even been that good this year.”

“Yeah, well you would use the coal to be productive.” She pulls his arm around her shoulder and helps him stand. His vision whites out and she barely catches him before sitting him back on the bed.

“I wanna punch him twice.”

“That is acceptable to me.” This time she hauls him on her back piggy-back style. He nearly whites out again, but this time she’s in a better position to support his weight so she sets off for the door. 

Tony knows Natasha is a scary person, more in an abstract way now though because he really does believe deep down that she wouldn’t hurt him too, too badly now that they’re friends. Probably. Maybe. He’s still going to try even harder to not annoy her now though, because about half way to the hanger bay where he assumes Nat’s going to steal them a flying car or airship or summon a dragon or something, an alarm goes off ordering all SHEILD agents to capture agent Natasha Romanov. 

Doesn’t Fury ever get tired of being a colossal asshole?

Tony groans, but doesn’t have the strength to pick his head up off Natasha’s shoulder, mostly because he’s really trying his very best to not be sick on her.

Nat’s the best, but there’s no way she’s going to be able to fight through every SHEILD agent with him on her back. Solo? Hell yes. Carrying 200 pounds of man? That’s just asking too much of anyone. 

He should really know better than to doubt Natasha Romanov. 

The first group consists of five pretty junior agents who immediately draw their weapons and order Natasha to stand down. However, the man with them, who must be a senior agent, bursts into near hysterical laughter, actually drops his weapons and raises his hands. “Hell no.” He gasps between bouts of laughter. “I like my life.”

The junior agents stare at him and look torn for a moment, but Nat has no such concerns. She’s on them before they can fire, knocking two out cold, breaking a few ribs on the third, and snaps the fourth one’s spine. The fifth is a young boy who immediately drops his weapon and sits on the ground, head on his knees. Poor kid. 

Nat blows past them, jogging hard now and, oh God, his ribs hurt worse than anything he can remember. He loses consciousness several times, but the pain always rouses him again. For a moment, he just wants to die.

They don’t get that lucky again. The next four groups fight hard, and Tony suspects Nat’s been shot after the last group. She takes another trembling step and falls hard to her knees, holding her leg. Now he’s pretty sure she’s been shot at least twice. “Oh my God, Nat.” She reaches for her but she sets him on the ground and smiles.

“Just a minute, and then we’re going.” She pulls bandages from God knows where and binds her thigh and a spot on her abdomen. 

His entire body feels colder than ice. He’s going to get her killed. They have to stop. He can’t do this to her. He has to make her leave him.

“Tony.” He opens his mouth to make her go, but that one word stops him completely. He looks up and Steve is staring at him like a deer in the headlights, looking as beautifully handsome as ever in his khaki pants and stupid red button down. Tony’s really going to cry. Does he know? Did he help Fury bring Tony to this point? Is Steve part of the reason Natasha is literally about to fight to the death?

She’s on her feet in seconds, a knife in each hand and murder in her eyes. She can’t do it. Not after being shot twice. 

“Please, Steve.” His voice is hoarse and his throat feels like he’s been gargling acid. Steve’s all big blue eyes, full of concern and uncertainty. He reaches out a hand, even though he’s too far away to touch. Tony raises his hand up anyway. 

They’ll never touch again.

“I love you, too.” Steve whispers and drops his hand before turning his back on them and barking orders down the hall and running off without a backwards glance.

The still won’t make it out at this rate, even with Steve running interference, the alarm has been going too long and he can hear the sounds of agents assembling, preparing to hunt them like dogs. He rests his head on the wall and wills the pain-induced nausea to pass. He’s going to end up a vegetable. He’s going to end up a vegetable and that will be okay. It will just have to be and it will be, but no one else is getting brought down from this. He can’t take anyone down with him, but he can be a vegetable. 

Natasha’s pressing a hand to the gunshot wound in her abdomen when she finally turns to him, still a little surprised Steve would do that for them. “Tony, get up. I know you’re hurting but we have to get out of here right now.”

“Nat, you gotta listen to me-“

She bends down and grabs Tony by the chin, hard. “No, you listen to me Stark. We are in this together. I am not leaving you here so you can be the noble martyr of the year. We are getting out of this whether you like it or not.” She grabs his wrist and starts tugging him up, fire in her eyes. “And you damn well better like it.”

There isn’t a doubt in her mind that she could bodily carry Tony out and fight every single SHEILD agent in the process and it makes Tony smile. It’s not arrogance. It’s the pure will to succeed, to survive. His heart swells in admiration and he wishes he were half the person she was. If he had been even a little more like her they probably wouldn’t even be in this mess. 

But that didn’t change the fact that they’re in it. And it’s time to be practical. 

“Nat, you have to go. You need to go get Pepper and protect her.” He presses the slightly sweaty paper he had scribbled on earlier into her hand. “These are all of my off-shore accounts and passcodes. There is literally more in these than you could spend in a lifetime, even if Pepper lived in a giant Jimmy Choo.” He smiles and manages to lower himself back against the ground. “I’m done, Nat.” He squeezes her hand and wills her to understand. She and Pepper have a real chance, not just to survive, but to live. “It was always me he wanted, not you. Get out, take Pepper if she’ll go and protect her if she won’t. You can have a life, but I’m done. You getting out of here and saving Bruce and Pepper- I literally want that more than anything. Your happy ending is all that’s left for me now.”

Her eyes don’t well with tears, because, come on, hardcore Russian spy, but it’s easily the most emotion he’s ever seen on her face. She stares at him for a long moment, face still determined through all the sadness, but then her shoulders slump and she, still graceful as ever, sits next to him on the wall. 

“I called Pepper. She’s going to be okay, so I’m not leaving you.”

He lays his head on her shoulder and she runs a hand through his hair. Just the two of them, sitting in a hallway screaming with alarms and the sounds of SHEILD agents who want their heads on pikes.

In it together, until the last.


	6. In Which There Is A Not-So-Great Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And suddenly- the cavalry arrives. Twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, sorry this is so late, things have been pretty crazy lately! But! Thanks to everyone who's still reading this! You're amazing!!! And all of you who commented are just the sweetest, you're too nice!
> 
> But for a little business- the tags of this fic changed a little. They aren't for this chapter per say but will come into effect a little later. I hope you enjoy!

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to foil your admittedly impressive attempt to get yourself killed yet again, sir. Do hold on, we’ve sent for reinforcements.”

Wait. What?

“JARVIS?”

“Were you expecting a different computerized butler, sir?” It’s amazing how his tone stays so British and polite and yet the sass is so prominent. Tony would roll his eyes, but he’s so relieved to hear those clean dulcet tones that he can only look over at Natasha and grin like an idiot. She pats his cheek condescendingly but manages a pretty relieved smile of her own. If this is real and not some pain-induced delusion then they may actually make it out of this.

“Well, I wasn’t exactly expecting a computerized butler at all, JARVIS.”

“A grievous oversight then.”

Tony’s about to answer because snarking with JARVIS is literally his favorite pastime, but the wall entirely too close to his head explodes in a shower of rubble and dust and a whole host of things Tony probably shouldn’t be inhaling in his weakened state.

Well, that can’t be good for a floating ship.

“I’m totally carrying you out like a blushing bride and there WILL be pictures even if I have to fly past a news studio.”

“Not gonna lie, that paint job still looks dumb, even when you’re coming to the rescue. Also, you’re late. Again. I demand a new rescue team, preferably one that doesn’t look like an American flag had sex with a bald eagle. Also women. Ow!” Nat whacks him and he rubs his arm as he stares up at the War Machine Armor. Rhodey flips up the faceplate and Tony could literally start crying, he’s so relived. They’re actually going to make it out of this alive. 

But, at the same time, this will be the end of Rhodey’s career. He loves being War Machine and working for the government and doing all that patriotic stuff. “No. No, you can’t be here. You have to go. Unless you are here on orders from the President himself you need to go. What is it with you people and stupidly throwing yourselves away?” 

Nat and Rhodey glare at him until he shrugs. Shrugging really hurts his ribs, though, and he winces.

“Tony, we’re not letting you die here. Hero monologue blah blah, oh look you’re moved to obedience, now get up we don’t have time for this.” He wraps a gauntleted hand around Tony’s arm and, with Natasha’s help, they get him up on his feet. 

“You guys don’t understand.” He grunts, wincing against the rather horrific pain in his ribs. “I don’t have a plan here. I don’t know what’s going to happen to us after this. There’s no secret base in a volcano or on a space station. We can’t go to the Tower or the Mansion or anywhere. There is no plan.”

“Tony. If we expected you to have a plan- no one would have come to get you because it would have been a stupid plan. Pepper made the plan so it’s all gonna work out fine.” 

Of course, because Rhodey has the audacity to assume that a situation may work out in Tony’s favor, ten SHEILD agents come running down the narrow hall, weapons drawn and a fight in their eyes. Tony reaches out and lays his hand against the nearest unbroken wall and nods at Rhodey and Nat as they prepare for battle. But, as soon as Rhodey lets go of his arm, Tony’s knees give out. He has just enough time to berate himself for being pathetic before someone grabs him neatly from behind and keeps him on his feet. It’s a nice grip, not too tight across his agonized abdomen, but even through the layers of clothes separating their skin, the arm is nice and cool, soothing the burning pain in his abdomen. But not like a regular soothing ice, more tingly. Tony hates magic. But he might have to make an exception because Loki’s eyes are so green and his hands just feel so good that Tony’s head swims. 

“And yet, still no dinner.” He tips his head back until it’s resting on Loki’s shoulder. He sort-of means it to be sultry, but he’s really wearing out now and even keeping his head up is a daunting task. 

“You must forgive that, you see I was quite busy saving your life. No time for food, I’m afraid.” He smirks and so does not push Tony’s sweaty bangs back from his nice dark eyes. 

“You seem to be saving me a lot lately.” It’s more of a whisper than Tony means it to be- but hey, he did just get thrown off a building. He shivers a little at the thought, he’ll be a little less than fond of heights for a while. But, with any luck, Pepper will find a nice, safe base that’s relatively close to the ground. Underground, even. But not with any sort of pit he could be thrown in because that would just be counterproductive, really, but Pepper has to know that a floating base would just be- and oh that’s Loki’s nice, cold hand under his ratty shirt. 

He inhales sharply and tries to focus on the fact that his best friends are probably snapping spines a few feet away while he’s being felt up by a God. Oh- or not because that’s Nat staring at him with what’s probably meant to be a judgmental face, arms folded and one eyebrow cocked up. He starts to wriggle a little against Loki because Natasha deciding he isn’t a worthy ally would actually be worse than dying without having amazing sex with a God who’d had thousands of years to perfect his technique and probably knew things that Tony could never possibly dream up- and his hand’s going higher oh God oh God oh God.

Loki tightens his grip just a bit, but it doesn’t hurt like Tony expects it to, it just feels good and he relaxes more in the hold. He’s going to get some sort of complex from this and it isn’t going to be pretty. From the look on Nat’s face, she and Loki are probably having some kind of glaring match and doesn’t that just make Tony feel special? Crazy serial murders fighting over him. Isn’t life adorable?

He’s going to laugh because it’s not really laughing at your own joke if no one else can hear the joke (or at least it’s less shameful), and a little chuckle at ideal times can remind everyone involved that while he is not a trained murder, espionage, or world conquering, he is lofty and above it all. Or at lest involved. Mostly a little laugher in the face of danger reminds everyone not to look down on him too much even though he’s pretty sure he’s bleeding internally. Which, ironically, is why the second he inhales to laugh his lungs have a small fit. Well, not small exactly, his entire chest feels like it’s on fire and his ribs feel like they’re trying to make a bid for freedom. Through his skin. He doubles over and almost hits the floor, but Loki has a strong hold on him. A series of nasty coughs rack his body, but he doesn’t have the energy to bring his hands up and cover his mouth. There’s blood on the floor. This might be serious. 

Natasha’s there, though, hands in his hair and actual concern on her face, saying something soothing in what might be English but he’s pretty sure is Russian. It’s a little hard to focus, but Loki’s suddenly colder arms are helping him stay conscious. He’s not sure he wants to be conscious. 

“We’re running out of time.”

Nat glares at Loki because no shit she knows that. “Carry him.” She cups his face with both hands and forces him to meet her eyes. “Stay with us, Tony. Just a little more.” He manages a nod and a little smile that must not have been terribly reassuring because she frowns and pulls a second gun from God-knows-where before moving in front of Rhodey and muttering something to him that’s probably a plan. Probably a really cool plan full of heroics that he should be a part of.

He makes a weak attempt to follow, but Loki sweeps his legs from under him and hoists him up bridal style. Today could not possibly be any more humiliating. “Come along, darling, before she decides I’m not needed.”

“Your hand’s on my ass. Are you magically healing me through my ass?” He tries for an eyebrow waggle, but he’s so tired. Loki has his back though and gives him a positively salacious smirk and opens his mouth to respond, but Natasha whips her head up and spins around to point her gun at Loki.

“Don’t.” 

It says a lot about her that Loki just shakes his head and looks away. Cowing a Norse God like it’s a regular Tuesday. Tony can’t help but smile, even though he and Nat are going to have to have a very serious conversation about cockblocking, and Loki still hasn’t moved his hand. But, really, how is this his life? He frowns a little and has an irrational desire for Pepper to be there. Pepper always knows what to do.

Not that Natasha doesn’t, or anything. She makes a hand motion and takes off down the hall, guns blazing. Rhodey give him one last little concerned smile that Tony wants to wave off but can’t, before flipping down his faceplate and chasing after her. 

Loki is still for a moment, staring after them thoughtfully, and Tony doesn’t want to disturb him, but Loki is stiller than death in his thought and it makes Tony wriggle a little uncertainly. It’s pretty awkward. Loki shakes it off though and smiles down at him, all predator having a blast even though Tony may very well be about to die in his arms. Wouldn’t that just be the most romantic thing? “Shall we be off then, Stark? Vengeance and wrath to enact and all that. Don’t worry so, darling.” His smile widens and Tony’s heart does not jump a little at the glean in his eye. “I’m fully prepared to save your life yet again, and have you indebted to me forever.”

Tony rolls his eyes, but an actual reply would be too hard with his chest still burning with every breath, despite the little tingle of magic he can feel. He’s not sure he would have survived a rescue attempt without a little magic. 

They make it out of the helicarrier in record time, even though it’s really weird and more than a little unsettling. Not that he wants Loki to carry him over rose petals or anything, but Loki carrying him over dead bodies splayed out like rose petals is just too creepy. 

Natasha and Rhodey are waiting for them at the edge of the landing pad, wind whipping through her hair and whistling off his armor. It’s eerily quiet after the blaring alarm and gunfire, but it still feels like the calm before the storm. 

“I can steal a plane if you can cloak us, if not then Rhodes will have to carry us out.” Ah Natasha, ever practical. He can see the blood soaking through her catsuit though. Even she can’t hold out much longer.

“I should be able to manage a little cloaking magic.” Loki sighs out, sounding entirely too put upon. Nat’s going to put a few bullets in him if he isn’t careful. As it is, she just narrows her eyes and walks to the nearest plane just as the cavalry arrives on deck. Pity. Tony was beginning to think Nat had killed almost everyone on board.

That puts a little pep in their step though and Loki hurries him to the carrier as Nat fires it up and Rhodey step s up to run interference. Tony looks back once more before they board though, taking it all in and realizes that this is it. There’s no going back. He wants to savor the moment. 

Of course he sees Bruce though. He looks equal parts hurt and eager and Tony wants so badly to bring him. But… it wouldn’t be fair. Bruce finally has a life here, no one chasing him, a place to sleep and warm food in a first world country. He can’t ask Bruce to leave all this behind, not to become a wanted fugitive and be hunted by the American government with a vengeance. So he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t wave him over. But he does look him in the eye and hopes desperately that Bruce understands. This is for the best.

He doesn’t stop starting, even as Loki carries him in and sets him down on the floor of the small plane so he can work his magic. He’s not sure if it works though, because as soon as Loki lets him go, the world swims and goes dark. He has just enough time to hope Bruce will forgive him one day.

***

Bruce, as a general rule, does not bond. Only in part to the fact that he just doesn’t like very many people, but especially since becoming the Hulk. He never stays in one place very long, and even if he plans to stay for a while, he still avoids most people like the plague because he’s been hurt before and no one ever understands. But then there was Tony Stark. Tony who, quite possibly, liked him because of being part giant green rage monster, and really understood why it had happened. Tony- who would never have stuck up his nose or called Bruce a mad scientist because he prizes intelligence and innovation. He understands the needs to push the boundaries of science. 

Tony, who looks him directly in the eye as he leaves him all alone on that platform. He doesn’t call out or ask Bruce to come with him. Tony just leaves him there. 

For the first time in years he’s consumed by emotions, and none of them are rage. The Hulk doesn’t even stir as crushing sadness squeezes his chest. He can barely breathe through it. Even when it’s over and everyone disperses, he stays in the same spot and stares after Tony, wondering why this always happens to him. He may as well give up on trying to be good enough for anyone. 

He stays for hours, long past the sun setting, before turning and walking numbly back to his little designated room, his joints stiff with the cold. He fumbles the key a few time before successfully getting his door open and stepping inside.

The light illuminates Nick Fury sitting on his bed, holding a pill bottle. 

Bruce doesn’t really think about running, he’s too tired for heroics and extraordinary measures tonight, even though he knows exactly what’s going to happen next. Maybe he does deserve it. 

Fury turns the bottle in his hands, ever thoughtful. “A placebo no one would have thought to look for, how clever, Doctor Banner. It’s a perfect replica, too. Truly, you are an artist.” He leans forward from where he’s sitting on the small cot and slaps the bottle down on the bedside table with a little thwack. “But you were careless.”

The baton cracks his skull from behind and electricity surges through his system with a force, leaving him too addled to summon his rage for the Hulk, but still too full of thought for the Hulk to take over. He hits the ground hard, wracked with seizures from the shocks and stares at Nick Fury’s shoes as he approaches. 

“Pity. A Hulk is better than an entire army, certainly. But no one ever complained about being backed fully by the U.S. army. Trade-offs are so fickle, but I just can’t let you run around if you’re going to be helping Stark.” 

They shove a bag over his head and shock him again, but he never loses consciousness.


	7. In Which Plans Are Hatched

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God, you guys I am so sorry! Life just got the better of me and I've been having a really hard time, but things should be returning to normal now. Anyway! Posting should be much more frequent for a while and I hope you enjoy!

Generally, when Tony has a ‘naughty nurses’ fantasy, it involves waking up to beautiful women in creative costumes fawning over him, not huddled in a corner most likely discussing the most effective way to murder men with a stiletto. It says a lot about how far he’s come that seeing his two favorite women in the universe, not in lingerie mind you, standing guard by his bedside fills him with a calm contentment. Well, technically Natasha’s sitting, but she did get shot twice so exceptions are bound to be made.

He takes a second to appreciate his life, oddities and all, but not the parts where he lost the love of his life or how he became a wanted fugitive. Natasha notices him, of course, and gives what might be a smile, but Tony’s a little far away to read micro expressions. Also his head still kinda hurts. He can’t miss Pepper’s grin though as she barrels across the room, too graceful to be in six inch heels, to grab his hand. Ah, Pepper, ever too classy for overly-emotional hugging. Nat hauls herself up with an effort, and Tony would beg her to just stay seated if he thought it wouldn’t make her determined to run a marathon out of spite, so he politely pretends to not notice her obvious pain even though it kills him a little inside. 

Speaking of, that seems to be the only thing killing him inside. He runs his free hand over his ribs, which feel blissfully intact and unbroken. The stab wound seems to have healed up nicely, and aside from the small ache in his head, he feels remarkably good for having just been dropped twenty plus stories. 

“Courtesy of our new resident trickster god.” Pepper supplies helpfully and he nods. Loki had stuck around? Loki had stuck around and healed him? He blinks for a moment and lets the oddest combination of his chest warming with affection and his brain screaming that something’s wrong was over him. 

“Yeah, you had better hope your trust fund holds though- he eats absolutely everything.” It’s good to know that Natasha and Loki’s relationship hasn’t budged a bit. It’s comforting to have fixed points in his life, even though everything’s gone to hell and Tony has apparently acquired a psychotic guardian angel at some point in the recent past. Things could be worse? Nat lowers herself into the chair at Tony’s bedside with considerably less grace than usual and he narrows his eyes. He knows two things for certain: things could definitely be worse, and Nick Fury is going to pay dearly. 

“So, what’s our current situation?” He levers himself up on his elbows, and only feels a faint twinge of pain in his abdomen, enough to wince but not enough to stop him from sitting up and getting ready to set old Nick on fire. 

Pepper rolls her eyes, but he can see the little spark of revenge burning in her, too. She strolls to the window and opens the heavy curtain to dark grey skies over a mountain range that Tony doesn’t recognize. He does know that they’re awfully high up and most likely out of satellite range- even SHEILD will have a hard time finding them here. Pepper makes the plans, indeed. 

He resists the urge to squeal and clap his hands together in favor of a manly throat-clearing, “you bought me a Castle of Doom?”

“I bought you a Castle of Doom.”

This time he does squeal a little before joining her at the window. Mountains as far as the eye can see, and an oncoming storm. How poetic. “What about the company?”

Pepper’s lips thin and she looks away, more than enough reason for his heart to sink a little in his chest. “Pep, come on. I need to know what we’re working with here.” He lays a hand on her arm and tries to look encouraging. That company had been just as much her baby as it had been his, maybe even more so as she had been running it lately. 

She shakes her head, “I’ve done everything I can with the media, but we’re being looked into by every single government agency. There’s no way the company can survive this, Fury’s going to get control.”

Tony only sighs, he had anticipated this outcome, planned for it and mentally prepared himself for what would need to be done. “Pepper, we can’t let him get his hands on that tech. The suits alone…” She looks up at him, despair warring with murder in her eyes. Murder wins. She straightens her back, picks up her chin and looks positively terrifying, six inch heels and all. 

“I’ll get everyone out and prepare to have Stark Industries blown up by the American government.”

***  
Hours later, after Pepper has shooed Natasha off to bed, and really what a cool trick- like the circus people with the chairs who fight back giant tigers that could snap their spines with a sneeze, Tony is pouring over battle plans and new suit designs. Pepper has finally fallen asleep in the chair by his bed, he suspects she hasn’t slept much in the past few weeks, so he does his best not to wake her while he plots the demise of his enemies. There are almost too many variables to consider and all the possibilities are simultaneously maddening and a pleasant challenge. He rubs a hand over his face and tries to think like Nick Fury, but he’s not really sure he can achieve that reckless disregard for human life. He’s really not sure he even wants to try. With a sigh he lets his head fall back against the headboard as he closes his eyes. He hopes Bruce is okay, at least. Even if that gives Fury the Hulk and leaves Tony with a whole host of other problems, he doesn’t mind as long as Bruce has a warm place to rest his giant green head. 

He’s not really sure what’s going to happen to Bruce in all this, but Tony’s damn sure going to do his best to protect Bruce. 

“Well, I can see you’re hard at work, and here I was worried I might disturb you.” The bed barely dips as Loki perches on the edge, looking stupidly handsome by the dim light of the lamp on the bedside table. Tony quirks a smile and takes in his new companion, armorless, delicious, and on his bed it must be Christmas.

“I’m allowed to rest. You know, I got tossed off a building for trying to save some guy’s life. Don’t worry though, I’m all out of heroics for this lifetime.” 

“Oh, that’s most reassuring to know, I was worried I would have to continue saving you, how nice of you to lay my fears to rest.” Loki smirks and leans back casually on one hand, eyes boring into Tony’s and daring him to ask what’s really on his mind. 

Tony’s all for never backing down from a challenge, but he’s not really even sure what to ask. ‘Why’ for starters. ‘Why everything’? At the same time, though, he’s not sure he wants to know. His imagined answers have been so much more entertaining. 

“So, what brings you to Castle Doom?”

“Oh, you know, something about a damsel in distress and an angry one-eyed dragon.” He waves his hand dismissively and grins a little at Tony who can’t help but grin back and roll his eyes.

“Oh yeah? How’d that work out for you?” He means it to be a little more cocky and condescending than husky and seductive, but if his mouth and throat are a little dry from almost dying then, really, who can blame him? Loki’s looking him dead in eyes again, thoughtful and considering. Tony shifts a little, sitting up a little straighter and bringing them closer together, meeting Loki’s eyes confidently. His stomach gives a little flop, which is ridiculous because, yes, they’ve flirted a little and saved each other’s lives and risked life and limb for one another but this? This is not going anywhere. No way. Nuh-uh. Besides, going from Captain freaking America to the batshit crazy god of Screwing Things Up is pretty much the saddest rebound he’s ever heard of.

“It certainly could have gone better, but I’m not complaining.” There’s no romantic lean-in or anything and Tony’s both absurdly grateful and a little disappointed, even though Loki does look like a tiger eyeing something juicy. As much as he hates to admit it, it’s been awhile and he’s lonely. He’s not really sure he can trust his good sense tonight. They lock eyes for a long while and Tony feels a flush of warmth creep up his neck before he finally drops his eyes to the nice red comforter his hands are fisted in. Loki only smiles and reaches out a delicate, pale hand and touches his cheek more gently than is strictly good for Tony’s libido. 

It would be easy to sleep with Loki. Well, no, not easy exactly there would be a whole host of things to worry about, not to mention… it would mean that his relationship with Steve is really over. Not that he thinks it isn’t, things are definitely over and Steve’s probably been screwing Barnes six ways to Sunday but still. He just isn’t ready to move on quite yet. To set everything Steve loves on fire maybe, but not to sleep with the craziest god he knows.

His hand doesn’t even shake when he grab’s Loki’s wrist and pulls his hand away. “Thank you, Loki.” He whispers and meets Loki’s eye again, confident in his ability to resist what very well may be the most beautiful man to ever have come on to him. For tonight, at least. Loki only smirks, but he has the oddest feeling that he’s thrown down the gauntlet. 

“My pleasure, Stark.” 

***

 

It’s dark. Tony’s never really minded the dark, it’s the time of the day he’s most often awake, really. But, somehow lying in his bed, staring up at the dark ceiling leaves him open to being consumed with thoughts of SHEILD and how Nick Fury has everything he needs to rip Tony’s most important people from him, legally even. Not that anyone can begrudge Tony Stark having a hard time sleeping, he’s woken up in enough nasty situations to scar anyone permanently, not to mention the nightmares. Before Steve, he just worked himself until he dropped in the lab. With Steve, sleep had been easy, not much is scary when you’re curled up to a few hundred pounds of solid American muscle. After Steve he had mostly just fallen asleep plotting revenge and oh God when had he started counting the eras of his life based on Captain America?

He rolls over on his side and stares out the window, this far from civilization he can actually make out a few of the stars and if he squints he’s pretty sure he can see the outline of a mountain. Stars and mountains aren’t going to help him sleep though. Stars and stripes, maybe. He flops onto his stomach and presses his face into the pillow with a groan. This is officially useless. 

The new Castle of Doom is really too poorly heated to be walking around in an undershirt and barefoot, but he braves the elements and hardwood floor anyway, padding softly down the hall to another door. He really does want to sleep, he did just get tossed off a building in a dead suit pretty recently after all, so he pushes the door open as softly as he can, a useless endeavor, there’s no sneaking up on anyone sleeping in this building tonight. Except maybe Rhodey. Tiptoeing carefully over the carpet, he makes it to the edge of the bed and stands awkwardly, like a child debating whether or not to wake up mom and dad.

Natasha finally sighs and opens her eyes to look at him. He can’t really see her all that well, but he can feel her stare in the dark. She doesn’t say anything so he matches her silence and fidgets for a moment until she sighs again and flings back the covers on the far side of the bed.

“Hands to yourself.”

He pouts a little and deliberately climbs over her to reach the other side of the bed, flopping down hard enough to shake the bed frame. He probably shouldn’t tempt super assassins like that, but apparently he has more lives than your average housecat, so what’s one more risk? He settles under the covers and lets out a deep breath, tension running out of his body knowing that a highly trained killing machine is watching his back while he sleeps. 

“Don’t sleep with Loki.” She says suddenly in the darkness and he cringes a little. Does he even really want to sleep with Loki? Yes. Yes, he does. Is it worth losing Nat though? No, never.

“Don’t sleep with Pepper.” He counters. There’s a long moment of silence and Tony thinks he may have taken this a little too far, but then Nat shifts a little, pressing her back up against his. Just like that, the deal is struck.

***

To Natasha’s extreme, like knife throwing and possessive growling chagrin, Tony and Loki start spending most of their days together in the makeshift workshop in the basement. The flirting and touches are nice, but really, Loki has some pretty interesting ideas to contribute to the Iron Man armors Tony’s been slaving over. Nat may be irritated now, but there’s no way she’s going to resent having the Widow’s Bite integrated fully into the armor, with double the range and triple the power no less, take that SHEILD. 

Speaking of, SHEILD has been suspiciously quiet over the past week. Somehow, Tony doubts that Fury has given up on ruining his life so easily. Though, he is glad he’s had time to fix Pepper a suit of armor. Not that she couldn’t probably talk her way out of a firefight, but Tony feels much better knowing that Pepper’s going to be cleaning house in the Retribution armor. It’s a little bulkier than his own, loaded to the teeth with weaponry, by Pep’s request.

She still doesn’t get to come blow up Stark Industries, though. Tony and Natasha both agreed to keep her away from that particular shitstorm, and with neither Rhodey nor Loki willing to go up against the leaders of their ragtag bunch, Pepper found herself outvoted. Many things were thrown, and even more shoes purchased. 

Which is why, when the faithful day comes, Pepper is absent from the giant landing bay as everyone suits up in their respective gear. Tony had immediately scraped all of that god awful pain off the War Machine armor, bringing it back to a nice gunmetal grey. Nat is sporting her sleek black armor, thinner than his and more of a exoskeleton that gives lift and lets her hit harder without hindering her movement. That had been a real chore to make, but Tony is damn proud of how it turned out. Loki’s just wearing his dumb antler helmet, having refused all of Tony’s offers to make him a really cool armor in green, though he has accepted a staff with repulsor capabilities so that’s something at least. They’re running final checks and Loki is just about to cast a cloaking spell when Pepper comes sprinting into the room. 

“Tony! Tony wait!” 

“Pep, it’s not that I don’t think you’re capable, I mean, really, I built you the most amazing supersuit known to man so of course you would be an asset but-“ He sighs and turns to face her with his hands on his hips. She’s always persistent but he and Nat just aren’t going to budge on this one. 

“Tony!” He finally looks at her, really looks. Her hair’s a mess and her face is an interesting shade of ghostly pale. She’s crumpling the paper in her hand and looks close to tears. He steps off the launch platform and walks to her as quickly as he can manage in the suit, heart pounding and mind producing thousands of worst-case scenarios. Because Pepper Potts is damn near a soldier, she’s unshakable in the face of a crisis and to see her rattled fills Tony with the worst kind of dread.

“Pepper what is it?” He wants to rest a hand on her shoulder or hug her or something but he just can’t, not now, not like this.

“It’s Bruce, Tony. Fury gave him over to the army. He was taken by some man named Ross.” She tries to hand him a file, no doubt containing every piece of Ross’ miserable life, but he doesn’t take it. He already knows about Ross and his obsession with the Hulk. The experiments. The barbarism. He doesn’t feel as angry as he thought he would in this situation, instead an eerie sort of cold feeling spreads through his chest and makes his fingers twitch. 

One thing. He had wanted Fury to respect one damn thing. 

“If Fury wants terrorism, we’ll give it to him.”


	8. In Which We Lose the Will to Live

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OKAY so life is finally getting back to normal, thank you to those of you still sticking with me through this! (Also I am so so sorry) Postings really should get more normal now, though. I hope you like the chapter :) Remember the tags were updated a ways back, too, so be mindful of that as we progress in the future!

US military bases do look so much better when they’re on fire. 

He realizes, less than an hour in, that he has woefully underestimated the strength of the United States army. Just because he had successfully decimated a few smaller armies as Iron man doesn’t mean that one of the most militarily advanced countries in the world would fall before him so easily. He’s really glad that the suits are standing up to tanks though, he’s taken a few nasty hits already, but the armor is still running. He can still do this. He will save Bruce or die trying. 

Pepper is holding up impressively well despite her lack of formal training in the suit. Her first real battle in the armor and she’s flying better than Rodhey even. Nearly better than Tony himself. He’s not jealous, not at all. Why would he be jealous? 

He’s so jealous it nearly hurts him. But he can’t lie and say he’s not relieved too, watching Pepper dole out damage and destroy buildings while getting barely a scratch on her black and gold armor. She’s armed to the teeth with missiles and machine guns, not that she needs them, she’s been tearing tanks apart with her bare hands all morning and it would be a little frightening if she wasn’t on his side. 

Rhodey and Loki clean house about as well as Tony expected, he’s fought alongside and against them respectively enough times to know what they’re capable of. Rhodey’s an amazing fire, but he’s taking damage more rapidly than even Tony. He’s just been a figure piece in the military for so long he doesn’t have the same combat experience. It would have been a cause for concern if Loki hadn't summoned some sort of massive ice dragon thing. He materializes the creature from nowhere, and Tony isn’t sure if the beasts screams of war or Loki’s ringing laughter is more terrifying. 

He’s a little worried he’s created a monster of his own. 

He’s long since lost sight of Natasha, but he sees her work as he tears into yet another building, punching clean through brick and metal. Well. That’s a lot of bodies. A monster indeed. 

Tony takes a deep breath and surveys the damage, sees the smoking buildings crumble, and hears the screams of officers and the cries of retreat. He feels dirty, somehow. It’s not like he wanted it to come to this. He’s so far over the line now that there’s absolutely no way he can go back, but they did it to him. They dragged him over the line, and they were sure as hell going to regret it. He tries not to wonder how it’s come to this. He never wanted this. He stares at his gauntleted hands and flexes his fingers, this isn’t why he made the suit. 

“Sir, General Ross’ location has been pinpointed. No fixed location for Doctor Banner is available.” JARVIS’s voice is calm and clipped through the helmet. Tony’s heart feels like it might burst out of his chest. They had started the raid nearly an hour ago, SHEILD was bound to be on their asses any moment, and more importantly, there’s no logical reason JARVIS shouldn’t be able to pick up on Bruce’s location. Unless he’s dead. But there’s no way the army could kill the Hulk. Even if it’s all Ross had been researching for years, it would still take them longer. Right? Logically he knows it has to be true, but he feels bile rise up in his throat all the same.

He does his best to shove down his feelings and follows JARVIS’s directions to where Natasha has Ross pinned to the ground via a boot in his face and a deceptively small gun in her hands. She looks like some sort of mythical war goddess, hair wild and face stained with blood. At least she isn’t smiling, she just looks like a person who’s been to war and is prepared to do whatever it takes. She’s almost more soldier than spy, and it looks like she only has Tony left to lose. Tony really hopes he didn’t do this to her. 

He flips us his faceplate and crouches down so that Ross can see his face, so he can understand just what sort of situation he’s in now. He can feel the little thrill of excitement from Nat, can feel her getting ready to eliminate their enemy and protect their ragtag family. Her thin black suit is in even better condition than Pepper’s which is good because it’s hardly meant to stand up to tanks, it’s more just something to offer a little more protection from physical blows, bullets, and explosions. Light and flexible enough to move in, and isn’t it supposed to have a helmet? He narrows his eyes at her and she pretends not to notice, but her lips quirk a little because, let’s face it, she always knows what he’s thinking. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Stark?” Ah, yes, the growly tones of a man who knows he’s about to be made an example of. And what an example it will be. 

“Yeah, no. We’re not playing this game. Where is he?” Ross sneers and Tony so does not have time for these games right now. “Right then, Natasha, please skin this man alive until he leads us to Doctor Banner.”

“No that’s incredibly messy and takes too much time.” She looks almost offended by the suggestion, and crinkles her face up in a very un-assassain like way. “I’ll just break all his bones and twist what’s left.” 

“Wow is that really faster? I feel like that might take a lot of time. Not that I’m doubting you. You’re the Black Widow and pretty much the goddess of torture.” He could never doubt Natasha and her scary spy ways, but statistically he knew he was right. Then again, trying to apply stats to a master assassin was probably a lesson in futility. 

“It would take you forever, but like you said, I’m very good at what I do.” And that was a creepy smile that Tony would literally do anything to keep from seeing flashed his way again. Nat’s way it is. As if there were ever any doubt. 

“Okay then. Please, proceed.” He makes an ushering gesture with his hands and Nat slams the heel of her boot into Ross’ nose. He yowls in pain and tries to cover his nose with his hands, but Nat does some kind of fancy stomp that breaks one of his elbows at a terrible angle and leaves it splayed across the ground before pinning his other hand under her boot. 

“Tony, you had better get down here.” Rhodey’s voice is bleak through the comm, and JARVIS has his location pinpointed by the time he finishes speaking. Tony takes a moment to center himself, sucks in a deep breath and tries to quell his racing thoughts before finally turning to Natasha who’s looking at him patiently.

“Don’t kill him yet.” He finally manages, meeting her eyes and willing her to understand what he now knows is happening. She knows, of course she does.

At her nod, he flips the face plate down and turns away from them to leap high in the air and race to Rhodey. He can hear Ross laughing through Nat’s comm. No. No, not Bruce. 

He’s pushing the suit as fast as he can, like if he’s fast enough he can undo whatever it is that has Rhodey sounding so upset. He can, it’s all going to be fine. They’re going to make it out of this. All of them, together. He nearly misses the backup SHEILD sends in. It’s not like he wasn’t expecting it. The entire thing had obviously been a trap, but traps don’t have to be sneaky if the bait’s good enough. And this bait is certainly worth dying for. 

It doesn’t change that he nearly barrels headfirst into Captain freaking America. Not that knocking Steve off of the small building wouldn’t have made Tony feel better, but instinct more than anything brings him up short. 

Steve’s face makes Tony wish he had just kept going, he looks like Tony effectively kicked every puppy within a hundred mile radius and is asking him to do the same. Tony’s feels the knee-jerk reaction of guilt to Steve’s anger and immediately prepares to apologize before he gets ahold of himself. Steve let them take Bruce, after all. Tony lands hard on the building opposite him and clenches his fists, Steve should have stopped them from taking Bruce. He has no right to stand there staring at Tony like he’s the only one who’s done wrong. 

“What are you doing, Tony? Why are you doing this? You have to stop right now.” Steve runs a gloved hand over his head, looking at a loss for words, like Tony has finally driven him over the edge and he can’t even deal with it anymore. “Why would you do this?”

The metal of his gloves creak and whine in protest as he glares at Steve. How dare he act so self-righteous? “You let them take Bruce. He might be dead and that’s on you.” His computerized voice doesn’t sound so agonized and he’s never been more grateful for the impassive face of the armor, because if Steve’s stooped so low then Tony’s really going to have to start taking drastic actions to get everything back on track.

To his immense relief though, Steve does not have an impassive faceplate and the confused shock running over his face is on full display. “What? What are you talking about, Tony?”

He doesn’t know. Tony has just enough time to sigh out his relief before Pepper hits Steve full speed and topples him off the side of the building. Tony blinks for minute and leans casually over the side. They’re both fine, about to rip each other’s throats out, but fine overall. 

“Take the distraction, Stark. We’ll hold them off until you get to Banner.” Loki’s voice, incredibly close to his ear, most certainly does not make him jump, that would be absurd. He doesn’t even have time to turn and look at Loki before the resident demi-god’s off without so much as a backwards glance, chasing after Steve and Pepper. 

God, life has gotten weird.

He shakes his head and returns to his trip, relocking to Rhodey’s coordinates, and wow, they had literally been keeping Bruce underground. Tony peers over the edge of the absurdly deep hole and can’t help but wonder how exactly Rhodey had managed to rip a small crater in the surface of the Earth. He shakes his head and jumps down, keeping an eye out for any straggling enemies on his way down. 

How could he have been so stupid? 

Bile rises in his throat and if his helmet hadn’t been filtering the smell, Tony would have been sick on the spot. There’s blood everywhere. Splattered on the walls and ceiling, pooled on the floor. His boots make the most sickening squishing noises as he walks forward and his stomach pitches again. It’s a barren room, one tray of instruments and one set of shackles on the far wall. A drain in the middle of the floor. Nothing military grade. Not an infirmary or a lab, just a place the army sends people to be murdered. He can barely focus on the War Machine armor, his head swims so badly. He can’t do this. This is too much to ask of anyone. Makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop.

Rhodey turns to face him, and Tony can’t see his face through the face plate, but he knows exactly what the expression would be. Rhodey gives his head a little shake and Tony has to bite his cheek against the burning in his eyes and throat. No time to cry. 

Rhodey moves towards him and lays a hand on his arm. “I’ll keep watch.” Tony nods and then he’s suddenly alone, staring at Bruce’s body. He’s seen his fair share of horrors, but nothing could have prepared him for this. He kneels gently and takes a deep breath before pulling off his helmet. The smell would be overwhelming if he weren’t so numb. 

“Bruce… Oh, Bruce.” He can’t hold back the tears, or the little break in his voice as he pulls off his right gauntlet and rests his hand on Bruce’s cheek. “I’m so sorry. I am so, so sorry, Bruce. This isn’t what I wanted. I never wanted any of this. I just- I was trying to keep you safe, Bruce, I didn’t think…” He sucks in a breath and tries to get a hold of himself, but it’s too hard. “You deserved so much better than this, Bruce.” 

Tears streak down his face and he can’t get the air in to his burning lungs. It’s like one of his panic attacks, but a thousand times worse because it’s Bruce. The man who brought him food and did science with him and was one of his only friends. The man who deserved so much more than this.

“Tony?” 

He snaps his head up so quickly it hurts his neck. “Bruce?” He scrambles to sit up and tilt Bruce’s head up with his gauntleted hand, grabbing Bruce’s pale, cold hand in the other. “Oh my God, Bruce.” He grins so hard it hurts, and then harder when Bruce manages a little smile of his own. “You scared me, man.”

“You came, Tony. You came for me.” 

“Of course I came, Brucie, who else am I gonna do science with or poke with pointy things?” He’s trying for wit, but Bruce’s hand is limp in his own and the terror is crawling back up into his chest. “I was worried you wouldn’t make it.”

Bruce smiles again, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Fury always had the answer, the perfect concoction. Until I wasn’t useful to him anymore.” He stares off for a moment and Tony lightly jostles his hand.”

“Stay with me Bruce, I’m gonna get you out of this. We’re gonna go home together, a real home this time. You don’t have to be afraid anymore, Bruce.” 

The time the smile does reach his eyes and he gives Tony’s hand a light squeeze. “Thank you, Tony. For everything.” He closes his eyes and lets his head fall back against Tony’s gauntleted hand. “Thank you.”

He drops Tony’s hand, and Tony isn’t sure how he’s going to survive this.


	9. In Which We Learn to Give Trust Sparingly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WOW so this monster is 6k, I got a little tired at the end so it may get a little sloppy but I really wanted to have it out tonight becaaaause HAPPY VALENTINES DAY to all my friends/readers who are sitting at home reading/writing fic like me tonight :) This is my special present to you <3 In other news, this chapter is a little trigger heavy so I'm gonna put the specific TW's for this chapter in the authors notes AT THE END. Check those if you want, don't if you don't. You're all wonderful and amazing and I hope you have a great Valentines <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey, also, I'm thinking about putting a few little side stories, not vital to the plot or anything but probably fun, on tumblr. Would that just absolutely wreck anyone's life? Would anyone actually care? Comments? Concerns? Just curious, enjoy!

Tony holds Bruce’s hand until it’s cold. 

He’s not crying any more, just staring blankly at the bloody floor beside Bruce’s head and wondering how he got here. How he had gotten his best friend killed. His hands tremble. 

“Tony, we need you.” Both her voice and the hand Natasha sets on his shoulder are soft, softer than he’s ever heard her. He doesn’t want to go, can’t bear to think of leaving Bruce again. They’ll pick apart his body and try to extract all kinds of scientific horrors until he’s nowhere near human anymore, only a thing, an experiment. Nat squeezes his shoulder, and though he can’t feel it through the armor he just sort of knows, because he has living friends to protect now and he is damn well going to make sure none of them die. 

He squeezes Bruce’s cold hand once more before standing and flipping down the faceplate. It’s time to work now, no more time to mourn. His hand still trembles a little as he holds it out and fires a repulsor blast into Bruce’s corpse, holding until only unrecognizably charred flesh and bone remain. Bruce will never be a science project again. With one last, lingering look, he grabs Nat and blasts them out of the makeshift tomb and into the firefight. 

It’s bad, really bad.

Pepper’s standing over Rhodey’s downed armor, fending off Captain America and Hawkeye. Her suit is a little worse for wear and he can see sparking clusters of exposed wires. He doesn’t have time to breath in before Natasha’s off like a shot, but he does have a second to wince even before the dulcet tones of something in Clint’s arm breaking filter down the comm. Delicious. 

Unfortunately, it only gets worse from there as Tony notices how unnaturally dark the sky has become, just before he sees Loki tossed sideways by his irate God of a brother. Well, shit. Tony’s not entirely sure what makes him do it, but he goes straight to Loki’s side over the others before he even really thinks about it. It turns out to be a super idea, because Thor’s standing over Loki, looking pretty menacing with his hammer in hand by the time Tony gets to them. He should probably have some kind of plan of attack this time, going in blind hadn’t worked so well in the past, but he’s a little pressed for time so he haphazardly fires a repulsor blast at Thor’s skull and just sort of hopes for the best.

And, well, if ‘the best’ is Thor whirling around looking murderous then he’s totally succeeded. “Come on Goldilocks, let’s play.” He charges another blast, hoping to lure Thor away from Loki, who looks like he’s taken some pretty serious damage since Tony went to the basement. Then again he’s seen Loki laughing whilst holding his own intestines so there may be a scale to be made here.

“Man of Iron.” And oh God, Thor looks all sad and betrayed like a puppy. Which is so not fair, Gods looking like baby bunnies while having the ability to rip out spines and squishy insides in the blink of an eye. Tony hopes they break the news about Bruce gently, and lowers his hands. He doesn’t want to fight Thor, he doesn’t want to fight anyone. Kill Fury, maybe, but not fight his closest friends. He can’t lose anyone else. “What have you done?”

“I didn’t do anything, it was all Fury’s fault. Thor, he’s completely lost it!”

Tony has never seen Thor look so terrifying. He actually takes a step back, hoping for a little more distance between then, it works, in a way, to Thor away from Loki, as Thor immediately pursues him. “You would dare pin your atrocities on Nick Fury?!” He swipes the hammer in front of himself as he advances, thunder growling in the distance and wind whipping up his hair. In all the ways Tony had anticipated his untimely demise, somehow he had never thought Thor would be the one to do it. “You have become crazed with power! Tempted, no doubt, by my sinful brother!” He whips around to face Loki, who had been slowly inching his hand towards the staff Tony made for him, and Tony has to fight the urge to flee or raise his hands or do something. 

“Thor, buddy, look you have no idea what you’re talking about-“

“Silence! I will not be fooled!” His face softens a hair and, wow, Tony must have looked frightened. Thor gives a long-suffering sigh. “I shall relieve you of your misery, and hope you fare more prosperously in Valhalla.” Now, Tony definitely brings his hands up, obviously he’s not getting out of this particular fight. What the hell kind of lies has Fury been feeding Thor anyway?

Thor roars out a battle cry, two parts rage and one part sorrow and advances quickly on Tony, hammer raised. In a most impressive display of team work through, Tony fires a repulsor blast just in time to knock Thor back, straight into the scepter Loki had been about to stab him with. Thor makes a soft, shocked noise and falls to his knees, staring at the long staff. 

Loki, for once in his life, takes no time to gloat and runs forward, grabbing Tony’s gauntleted hand. “He’ll be fine, but we need to retreat immediately.” Tony agrees wholeheartedly with that statement. They’ve already lost their reason for coming here, there’s absolutely no need to lose any more lives. 

A true sentiment, to be sure, but one that comes entirely too late. 

Pepper’s down now, too. Natasha’s suit is ripped and oozing blood in more than one place, her face is smeared with blood and her eyes are a little wilder than usual, but she’s still managing to fight. Tony is more certain of Natasha’s ability to fight to the death than gravity or the pull of the moon on the ocean. He has a second to be absurdly grateful she’s on his side before he realizes what is so very very wrong with this picture.

Again, too late.

The SHEILD agents pull back on some given command that escapes Tony completely, but they are fast and efficient and giving chase would be futile so he moves to stand by Natasha instead. She leans on him a little and whole chest feels cold, she would have to be so hurt to admit to needing any sort of help. He can’t leave her and Pepper, so he stares in silent horror as Barnes himself drags Rhodey’s unconscious form onto the ship. It’s not the helicarrier, but it’s still one of their fastest jets. Faster than the armor, even. Tony knows because he built it.

Loki, though, is not acting as a human wall and flashes forward at a speed that makes Tony’s brain hurt. However, half way to the ship lightning flares and flings him backwards hard enough that he doesn’t get back up right away. Thor lights down between Loki and the ship, bent at a funny angle and looking worse for wear, but still standing and ready to fight. 

Of course, Nick fury steps forward, standing at the top of the lowered boarding platform and stares straight into Tony’s eyes. “James Rhodes has been accused of treason during war time, and defecting.” He smiles and turns his back while Tony’s brain scrambles to figure out exactly what this means. Because it couldn’t mean the firing squad, could it? Surely Fury’s not that crazy. But army politics have always been a little… questionable, and Rhodes is a soldier before he’s an American citizen. 

Natasha must realize, too, because she shoves off him and goes down on one knee, freeing him up to blast towards the ship as quickly as he can. This time, Steve is the one who steps forward, shield out and ready to do battle. Tony’s taken just enough damage from the tanks for this to be a Very Bad Thing. To be fair, Tony really doesn’t expect Steve to attack him unprovoked, so it’s only partially his fault that his attention is more on the plane sealing his unconscious friend inside than the spangly man before him. Until said spangled jerk tackles him hard, clipping his helmet with the shield, and oh god, that’s an unpleasant ringing. 

“The loft, twenty three hundred hours.”

Tony blinks through the horrible noise in his ears and tips his head up just in time to see Thor grab Steve and fly off after the jet. Tony heaves himself up, but by the time he’s in the air, the others are long gone, cloaked by SHEILD technology.

***

Pepper’s a little worse for wear, but Loki has seen to it that she’ll live. They all crowd in her, admittedly large room, draped over various chairs and settees. No one speaks, too worn out and preoccupied with their own thoughts to take care of anyone else. Tony tries not to think too hard about Bruce, instead resolving to save Rhodey or die trying, and taking strength from his comrades to face what’s coming. Steve is his last hope. He takes a deep breath and tries to save these hours in his memories, freedom and the people who had given up their lives for him. The best, truest friends he could ever have wished for and never deserved. 

When the clock flashes ten thirty he rises, trying to prolong the moment, but also trying to appear as natural as possible. Hopefully he can play his hesitance off as stiffness from the battle, but there’s a slim chance the others will buy it, so he forces himself to move at a normal pace. Forces himself to smile a little when he tells them he’s going to find a way to get Rhodey back. Lies to them by letting them think he’s just going to his lab, instead of meeting the enemy. No one stops him, they love him and trust him too much to accuse him of lies.

He never asked them to.

***

He lands outside the apartment building as quietly as he can manage, cloaked in the sounds of faraway traffic and too-busy people. Removing the suit in the lobby with shaking hands feels a little too much like baring his throat to a monster, but he isn’t here to fight. Not tonight. So he carefully steps out of his last defense and lets the suit fold into a briefcase, small and unthreatening. That’s what tonight is about. 

The building is deathly quiet and poorly lit, but the elevator is tried and true, so the flickering lights don’t worry Tony too badly as the ancient machine begins it’s ascent to the top floor. His heart pounds against his ribs so hard it hurts and he’s too upset to try and calm it. This is his one chance to save Rhodey. Nothing can go wrong or he’s going to have another friend’s blood on his hands, and he’s just not sure he can survive that. He’s really sure he doesn’t want to, but then again, he’s also sure he should have had a drink before this. His hands twitch around a phantom glass. He’s been securely on the wagon lately and hadn’t pre-gamed this particular party, but he’s regretting that particular decision right about now. 

The elevator screeches none-to-gently to a halt and he takes a shaky breath before stepping out into the dark hallway and walking slowly to the door at the end. His shoes are ridiculously loud on the cheap carpet, not that it really matters. Steve will hear him coming anyway. His hands shake a little harder at the thought. Steve is noble though. As long as he comes alone, there shouldn’t be anything to worry about. Hopefully Tony can manipulate that same nobility into saving his friend’s life. The thought should calm him, but his hands are still shaking so badly it takes three tries to get the key in the lock.

At first glance, the room is empty, though it’s too dark to see much. He steps inside carefully, willing his eyes to adjust faster, a good instinct because the second he closes the door, he’s shoved face-first into it hard enough that his nose makes a pretty sickening crunch. He barely has time to breathe before a hand wraps around the back of his neck and throws him roughly to the ground. His head smacks hard on the tile floor, dazing him for a second and he sees a few spots before the same hands grab the front of his shit and haul him to his feet. He has just enough time to stare into those baby blues he loved so much before Steve hits him in the stomach, hard. 

They’ve sparred before, but nothing like this. Steve means business and Tony’s a pretty accomplished fighter and spends a lot of his time in the lab lifting heavy things, but he’s not really a match for the Super Soldier Serum. Not without the suit. He’s not even sure where he left it at this point. His knees his the floor hard, and he doubles over, trying to get his breath back before Steve grabs his hair and hauls his head up. His pupils are huge and his face looks completely foreign from the man Tony had spent countless hours staring at. A thrill of fear chases up his spine like so much ice. He hadn’t calculated for this monster at all. “What the hell were you thinking?!” Tony doesn’t even see the punch coming, it’s way too fast, but he does see the blood he spits on the floor. Steve’s got him by the hair again and the world’s starting to go a little wobbly. He blinks a few times and tries to get his bearings, tries to listen to whatever Steve is growling at him in his angry Captain America voice. Tries to figure out what’s wrong with him. 

“Is this what you wanted? You are such a child.” Steve hits him again, and this time Tony is pretty sure he loses consciousness for a second because the next thing he knows, Steve has his chin in a bruising grip and Tony’s a little worried something might be broken, it hurts so bad. Everything hurts. “You’re a terrorist. I can’t protect you anymore! What the hell do you expect me to do in this situation?!” His jaw makes a horrible grinding sound and Steve shake him hard once before loosening his grip. Tony pants in a few breaths, trying get some semblance of order in his thoughts. He doesn’t really have any explanations he wants to give Steve. He didn’t come here to explain or defend his actions. He doesn’t really owe Steve shit. The sneer begins, but he swallows it down. He’s here for one reason, and it means more than defending himself. 

“Please, Steve, God, please just don’t kill him.” Working his jaw hurts, and Steve’s still got ahold of his chin, making talking a small torture. But he can’t stop. He has to make his case. “You have to stop this. I’ll do whatever Fury wants. He wants weapons? I’ll hand him a button that’ll blow an entire civilization sky high. I’ll be the pitt bull that mauls babies just- please. Please let Rhodey go. This isn’t about him. It’s me you want. I’ll come quietly I swear. Please don’t do this.”

He fists one hand in Steve’s shirt and pleads with his eyes. The shinning pinnacle of supplication. Steve’s eyes are still impossibly dark, drugged maybe, and Tony still feels like he’s dealing with some kind of wild animal. At least Steve’s stopped hitting him though. 

“Please.” 

***  
His hands are shaking again, badly enough that the absurdly expensive bourbon splashes out of the glass and drips onto the floor. He doesn’t care, might never care again. He’s pretty sure not even sleeping with Natasha will save him from these nightmares. He deserves this drink. 

No, he doesn’t. But he needs it.

He stares at the swirling amber liquid for a moment anyway, dubious that even this can save him now. At least there’s a chance Rhodey will survive this, even if Tony probably won’t. He does deserve this drink, he does. Just tonight. Just forever. He sure as hell can’t do this sober. The liquid sloshes over the rim and onto his shirt and pants as he brings the glass slowly to his lips and closes his eyes. One small sip for man…

The cool hand covering his own and stopping the progress of the glass startles his so badly he tips his chair over and drops the glass in his haste to escape. 

Loki quirks an eyebrow and stares at the mess of alcohol and glass on the table, utterly unamused. “Well, as warm a reception as that was, I must insist-“ He finally deigns to drop his eyes to Tony, sitting on the floor with his back against the table behind him, chest heaving and eyes wild. Loki’s eyes go wide and then narrow into what is possibly the most terrifying facial expression Tony has ever seen and God he so does not need this tonight. 

To Tony’s unending surprise though, Loki simply turns on his heel and walks over to the sink, snagging a towel along the way. Tony just sits very still and tries to get his heartbeat back under control. He really had been expecting everyone to be sleeping off the day’s events, especially since he’s down to the only three people in the entire world who absolutely would never buy any lie he made up about how after the fight today he had been mostly unscathed and now he looks like a human punching bag. 

Loki returns as quietly as he does literally everything else, which means Tony jumps a little when he’s suddenly crouched down, wet cloth in hand. “Can’t you just magic me healed?” He mutters, but the movement opens back up his split lip and seriously this sucks so much. His face is killing him. 

Loki only smirks and goes to work on the smeared blood caking Tony’s face. “Well, I’ve spent all day healing your magnificent lady warriors, though if I had known you intended to do something so monumentally asinine, I would still not have saved magic for you.”

“You don’t even know what it was!” Tony tries to sit forward and throw his hands up in indignation which, coincidentally, turns out to be a monumentally asinine plan that leaves him hunched over, clutching his most likely broken ribs. 

“What have you done, Stark?” Loki lays a suspiciously gentle hand on Tony’ head, but not gentle enough seeing as Tony’s hair has been used as a handhold more than once tonight. He winces and Loki runs his hand over Tony’s cheek to grab him by the chin and force his head up. His hands are still gentle but the look in his eyes is hard, like he knows exactly what’s happened and someone’s going to pay dearly for it. Loki’s not Steve, and while the hand under his chin is a barely-there pressure, Tony can’t suppress yet another wince. If anything, Loki’s eyes become more murderous.

“I did what I had to, to save Rhodey.” His voice doesn’t shake, and he holds eye contact with Loki. Tonight, he may be used and embarrassed, damaged more than he has been in a long time, but he did what he had to do. He saved his friend’s life. 

Other than the murder burning in his eyes, Loki’s face is scarily unreadable. He absently moves his thumb across Tony’s jaw, and it’s oddly soothing, but he’s clearly millions of miles away, no doubt already putting together exactly what’s happened. There’ll be no lying about this, so he decides to not even try, instead letting the tension run out of his shoulder and letting his head fall to the side, it feels so heavy. Loki moves his hand, like water or snakes or something else that’s ridiculously fluid and graceful, cupping his cheek instead of his chin, supporting his head effortlessly. 

Tony knows he should be more concerned, especially after what’s just happened with the man he trusted more than anyone. But, somehow, he feels safe enough cradled in the hands on the God of lies. How did his life get so fucked up?

“You must sleep.” It’s not a request, and Loki has Tony on his feet before he really realizes they’re moving. He gasps a little at how much standing hurts his lower half and Loki sets a hand on his arm to steady him when he sways. Tony manages a little crook of his lips that passes for a smile and thinks about saying something witty, but Bruce is dead and his ex-boyfriend is a monster, so for some reason the remarks keep dying in his throat. He may not want to make jokes, but he does realize at some point during their long ascent to his room, Loki keeping a keen eye out for Natasha of course, is that what he wants more than anything is a shower. Also, possibly a mind scrub and some therapy. Even in his head, the jokes fall flat. 

When they finally reach his room, Tony figures that’s the end of it, and makes a real effort to quirk his lips up at Loki when he thanks him. Loki doesn’t buy it for a second and ushers him in, helping to peel off his shirt and getting that scary murdering look again at the bruises blossoming over Tony’s ribs. “Can you wait to shower?” He grits out through clenched teeth, and Tony feels inexplicably guilty before realizing he hadn’t actually told Loki he wanted to shower. Oh. Tony blinks for a moment, willing his brain to work, and finally realizes that maybe Loki knows he wants a shower more than anything. Maybe Loki has been through more than Tony gives him credit for. 

“No,” he finally manages, voice soft and a little shaky, “it’s the smell, I-“ Loki cuts him off and drags him into the big bathroom without another word. He doesn’t offer any words of comfort of encouragement and Tony’s absurdly grateful. He doesn’t want to talk, doesn’t want to think or do, and Loki making all the decisions and turning on the shower and moving briskly about is so comforting he could cry. He doesn’t because if he starts, he’s not sure he will ever stop. Instead, he busies himself squirming slowly out of his pants, careful of his aching ribs. His jeans are a mess, covered in all manner of fluids, and he makes a mental note to have JARVIS burn them later.

After waving Loki off, Tony manages to get himself in the shower, gritting his teeth against the pain because being naked and vulnerable while Loki helps is just something he can’t handle tonight. The effort of standing and slowly washing himself off is exhausting and takes entirely too long, by the time it’s over he just wants to sleep for a year. But it’s so worth it to feel even a little more human, to get rid of that smell and some of the blood and other.. fluids. He barely makes it out before collapsing on the soft mat beside the shower, shaking. How the hell is he supposed to get past this? Bruce is dead and Rhodey might still die even though Tony… 

“I can’t do it. I just…” He finally pants out when Loki reappears like magic, hauling him up despite his protests and helping him, still soaking wet, into bed. 

He’s thinking about crying, but he’s also thinking that crying will probably hurt and be exhausting, when Loki lays a soft hand on his ribs and the bliss of magic runs over him. “You will get through this, Tony.” He says softly, looking at the bright red crystal in his hand, channeling as much magic as he can manage without frying them both. He’s tired and it’s hard work, especially since the magic stored in this crystal isn’t exactly purposed for healing, but it’s worth it to see Tony’s face smooth out. More so to see his toes curl with pleasure from the magic. He feels a little bad, cupping Tony’s cheek again and coercing his eyes open as his nose slots back into place and the swelling dies down completely. Tony’s eyes are hazy, clouded with the magic and the weird, warm sensation coursing through him. It’s too warm and he pants with the heat, writhing a little against the softness of the stupidly high thread count sheets. 

“Loki, what’s-?” 

He’s gorgeous and vulnerable and high on magic and Loki can’t resist leaning forward just that little bit. It’s a pretty chaste kiss, all things considered. Tony finds himself leaning in for a moment before the horrible thoughts set back in and he jerks back before backhanding Loki across the face, hard.

“No.” He whispers, hand pressed to his mouth. 

_Tell me no. Tell me to stop and I will_

Loki shakes off the hit easily enough and it’s not like Tony hasn’t thought about this. It’s not like ever since that day on the roof, if not before, he hasn’t wondered. Even Nat had noticed. This gorgeous creature that had saved him countless times now, in his bed and wanting him? How is he supposed to refuse this? But after tonight? He can he not? He wants to scream at the unfairness of it all. He’s still shaking with the memory of Steve, hot and impossibly heavy, pressing him into a hard, unforgiving floor. 

But this might be his only chance. Tomorrow, he’s going to surrender himself to Fury and he’s pretty sure he won’t get conjugal visits. 

“No.” He says again and it feels so good to say. He had wanted to scream it a thousand times tonight, but Rhodey’s life had been so much more important than one little sexual encounter. “No.” He says again, feeling oddly empowered, before he grabs Loki by the back of the head and kisses him, hard. 

I want this. We’re doing this because I want to, he reminds himself.

Loki’s a little confused, but he also understands, so he leans forward, pressing Tony back into the soft bed, one hand braced on the mattress and the other running over Tony’s chest and kissing him with thousands of years of skill. Tony may be good, and quite well-versed in the art of sex, but even he isn’t prepared for the pleasure of the silver tongue. He doesn’t even think about flipping the tables once Loki starts working Tony’s tongue with his own, just lets himself be pressed back and fists a hand in Loki’s long, soft hair. 

Tony’s pretty content with having himself kissed senseless, but Loki pulls away and nips at his earlobe before pressing open-mouthed kisses down along his neck. He arches with pleasure, tightening his fingers and biting his lips to keep in his little whimpers. It’s a battle lost, though, as Loki bites and licks at a spot just under his chin, and oh god that’s going to mark. He tugs at Loki’s hair, but it’s in vain as the god worried another spot on his neck, drawing out a few more breathy whines before finally pulling back and meeting Tony’s eye. 

“I cannot undo what has been done to you.” He whispers, stroking Tony’s cheek and running his thumb over those swollen, red lips. 

Tony takes a second to stare, feeling his heart pound rabbit-quick in his chest, before lightly nipping the tip of Loki’s thumb. “Fuck me.” He sits up, reveling in the feeling of his newly-healed ribs and grabbing the front of Loki’s unnaturally soft green tunic shirt. “Remind me it can be good.” He kisses Loki hard, bites at his lips and lets that perfect tongue back in his mouth for a few moments before pulling away. “Fuck me so hard I forget him. Completely.” 

Loki grins, all predator and no more hesitation, before shoving Tony roughly back onto the bed and straddling him. He gives Tony a positively sultry smirk before stripping off his tunic and leaning back down to press a chaste kiss to his lips before pulling back and smirking. Tony chases his mouth, but Loki holds him easily with a hand on his chest, Tony had forgotten just how strong Loki was and whines before pouting and trying to look inviting. Loki only smirks again and slowly lowers his mouth to one of Tony’s nipples, kissing it to hardness before digging his teeth in. Tony lets out a little wail, and Loki grins against him before bringing up his other hand to torment the other one. 

As if the sight of a half-naked god hadn’t been enough, Tony is officially hard enough to pound nails and Loki officially does not care. He bucks up, but Loki’s sitting just high enough to thwart his attempts at friction. He huffs and wraps a hand in Loki’s hair, tugging his mouth back up and leaning up on an elbow to get the leverage to control the kiss. It’s a futile attempt; Loki’s still got that amazing tongue that reduces Tony’s bones to so much jelly. Instead, he slides a hand around to Loki’s lower back and plays with the waistband of his incredibly sexy leather pants, dipping his fingers in to feel the soft skin beneath. Only skin, in fact. In other news, Asgard now ranks in the top 5 places that Tony would like to spend the rest of his life. 

Loki grins against his lips before breaking the kiss and reaching a hand down to unlace his pants before helping Tony shove them away. They damn near have to peel them off, but oh god the view is worth it. Tony groans and kisses him again, feeling Loki shift to-oh god. Loki rubs his hard cock against Tony’s and it may very well be the best thing Tony’s ever felt. He throws his head back and groans, giving Loki the opportunity to kiss and bite his way back down his neck and chest, all the way to his groin. He pauses for a second, just long enough for Tony to lift his head and meet his eye, before giving a positively wicked grin and licking a long stripe up Tony’s cock without breaking eye contact. 

Tony throws his head back and arches almost completely off the bed with a long, low groan. Loki licks him once more before urging him to roll up on his knees, Tony’s shaking a little but complies and oh man does Loki’s beautiful, perfect tongue make it worth his while. He bites hard into the pillow to stifle screams that would surely bring Natasha running, as Loki works his tongue deep into his hole with sharp thrusts. Tony couldn’t be more glad that Loki healed him everywhere.

He’s really trembling by the time Loki decides to take pity on him and work a surprisingly wet finger in alongside his tongue, pulling at the edges of his hole and getting even deeper. 

“I love magic.” He manages to pant out, and Loki chuckles, sending Tony’s face back into the pillows to smother a groan. 

Tony’s starting to fidget and actively resisting the urge to rub up against the sheets because he’s so hard and desperate and Loki is completely neglecting his cock, and he’s not complaining but oh god he’s desperate. He whines and writhes back as much as he can, but Loki’s grip is velvety iron and there’s no escape. He nearly screams with frustration, burying his face harder into the pillow. Loki works another two fingers in before pulling back and biting Tony hard on the ass, and oh god there’s a kink he never thought he had. 

“Are you ready, darling?” Loki’s tone of faux-curiosity is so not appreciated right now of course he’s ready what kind of sadistic question is that? 

He’s going to say something witty, snappy even to redeem his trembling, desperate state, but he can only nod and hope it’s good enough. Possibly because of all he’s been through tonight, it is and Loki pulls out his fingers before pressing inside of Tony as gently as he can manage. 

It’s almost still too much and Tony jerks a little, remembering.

_Do you still love me? I still love you, I never stopped loving you. Tell me you love me. Tell me there’s no one else. Tell me you love me._

Loki drapes himself over Tony’s back, easily one of the lighter men Tony’s had sex with and it’s a comfort, running a soothing hand through his hair and muttering something calming in a language Tony’s probably never even heard of. He takes a few deep breaths, trying to stop the shaking. Trying to listen to the beautiful man above him. 

He’s still hard and it doesn’t hurt so he shoves back. Loki obliges and thrusts into him hard, nearly running him into the headboard, so he brings up a shaky hand to brace himself, losing himself in the wonderful feeling of pleasure. It’s almost too much. Tony’s had a lot of sex but something about this is just better than normal. He looks back over his shoulder, listening to Loki’s little moans and trying to memorize the wicked little grin on his face. He still looks perfect, even in the throes of passion and that’s just not fair. Tony wants to kiss him. Almost as if he can read his mind, Loki leans down and kisses Tony’s shoulder with just a hint of teeth. Tony gasps, “hang on- hang on.” 

Loki looks a little concerned, but pulls back long enough for Tony to roll himself over and pull him down for that kiss. “Okay, go.” He pants back before kissing him again, lazy and slow, like they have all the time in the world. Loki slots back in with a particularly rough thrust, the perfect counterpoint to the relaxed kiss, and snakes a hand down to wrap around Tony’s cock. Tony bucks hard into his hand, pulling back to pant wetly for a moment before diving back into the kiss. 

Whores might not kiss, but he’s not a whore. Not this time. He really does want this.

It’s his own racing thoughts that push him over the edge, bucking up hard into Loki’s hand and groaning loudly before falling limp against the sheets. Loki kisses him again and thrusts a few more times before coming himself and falling back next to Tony. 

They lay in silence for a few moments before Tony hesitantly reaches out a hand and Loki smiles, pulling him close and kissing him again. He closes his eyes and lets himself be held, lets himself feel safe for the night because tomorrow this will all end.

At some point, the stickiness vanishes and Tony decides he really does love magic

***

Loki lies awake long after Tony succumbs to sleep, staring at his newest conquest. Lover, even. His noble little hero. Loki’s going to kill Rodgers. It’s already been decided by the fates, and he’s just now found out. He will bear this cross gladly. 

But not tonight. Tonight is, apparently, for heroics. Loki is no hero, but he has been known to do a few foolish things in his time. He dresses with magic and slips quietly from their quaint little mansion, tracking his target with ease, and breaking into their little floating fortress with even less effort. The room isn’t terribly difficult to find either, how do these people protect themselves? He’s been wandering for at least five minutes and no one has come to stop him. These fools deserve to be annihilated. 

Again, not tonight. But maybe one day. 

He slips into the nondescript room, certain his target’s inside and closing the door behind him. This really is a conversation best had away from the peasants. 

The figure on the bed leaps to attention, weapon in hand, even though he’s still mostly asleep. Loki’s almost a little embarrassed for him.  
“Brother darling.” He chimes, stepping out of the shadows and facing the half-clothed Thor. 

It’s his duty to fix this. After all, he’s the one who started it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Heavily Implied dub/non con, it's not explicit but when I say you'll know about it, you really will. If you can skip the bits in italics, that's where most of the implied part comes from :) happy reading my dears


	10. In which There Are Metaphorical Carousels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It occurs to me that I probably should have posted this bit earlier to avoid hurt feelings, but it's here now~ Sorry it's not going to be a terribly eventful chapter, but I think we can all agree it's necessary. Juxtaposition? What's that? :)

Is it terribly wrong that he’s relieved Loki’s not there when he wakes up? 

Waking up alone would have been best, and waking up to see Nat perched on the bed next to him, all knowing dark eyes and disapproval is really freaking terrifying, but at least it’s not Loki. 

“I saw the tapes from last night.” She doesn’t sound angry or particularly judgy, and he doesn’t see blood beneath her fingernails so he chalks it up to a small victory. Though he acknowledges this could be exactly why his most recent paramour isn’t cuddled up next to him or looking for a repeat of last nights… activities. His stomach rolls a little and he presses his face into the nearest pillow, trying hard not to hyperventilate. 

Nat doesn’t say anything for a long moment, waits patiently for the wave of panic to pass, but she does reach out and take his hand when he offers it, and it’s enough for now. “Please don’t lecture me.” It’s a little close to begging, but he really can’t handle her being angry or disappointed in him. He’s already so disappointed in himself. 

“Oh, Tony. I’m not going to lecture you.” She shrugs down further on the bed until they’re on the same level, and for some reason the tension in him relaxes. Not that he thinks Natasha would ever hurt him, but all these irrational thoughts and fears are dangerously close to taking him over. His stomach physically hurts and it’s a little harder than normal to breath. It only gets worse when he is suddenly convinced that there’s no way to make any of this better. 

She reads the fear on his face and squeezes his hand hard, hard enough to snap him out of his thoughts and bring him back to the present. “I slept with Loki. I don’t know what I was thinking, Nat. I’m so sorry. Bruce is dead and Steve’s a monster and I thought it would help but I just feel dirty.” His heart is beating so hard it hurts, and his eyes burn worse with every pound. He finally understands that saying about hearts beating out of someone’s chest. He really wishes he didn’t. 

She touches his cheek gently and rubs at a few of the tears he hasn’t managed to hold in. “I cried too, my first time.”

She pulls him close and tucks him under her arm while he cries for both of them. 

He’s a shaking mess by the time he cries himself dry, Nat’s whispering sweet nothings to him in Russian and he’s just trying to escape the thoughts, but it’s like being stuck in a revolving door. Endless. A merry-go-‘round he can’t get off. 

“Does it ever stop?” His voice is hoarse and talking makes him feel like he’s been gargling acid, but he can’t bear not to ask. He really just wants her to lie to him, to tell him he can get past this. He needs a therapist, but that option is something he probably gave up when he decided on villainy. When it was thrust upon him and threw him into the shitstorm that is his life. Nat just squeezes his hand tightly again, bringing him back by force. He thinks it shouldn’t work as well as it does, but if anyone can teach him to deal with this, it’s the spy holding him. 

“You learn to cope. It doesn’t really get any easier, but you get better.” She looks him dead in the eye and gently touches his cheek, and he realizes, vaguely, that she’s gauging his reactions, trying to figure out exactly what he needs. She looks scared, somewhere between the odd wideness of her eyes and the set of her brow. She doesn’t want to do this without him any more than he wants to do it without her. He can’t bring himself to comfort her. He just doesn’t have it in him today. “You’re going to get through this. We’re going to do this, together. And then, they are going to pay for it. Dearly.” 

She sounds so sure that it’s easy to close his eyes and let her certainty wash over him for a moment. He doesn’t have long before the shaking sets in, accompanied by the thoughts. Round and round. Thoughts- symptoms, symptoms- thoughts. His stomach churns and he nearly throws up all over the sheets. 

“The crystal he used to heal me- it made me all fuzzy and warm. Not like I didn’t know what I was doing, but it was easier to do it.” He sucks in a ragged breath and squeezes her hand again. “How am I supposed to be pissed at Steve when he was loaded up on chemicals too? I’m not any better. And, really, it’s not like I haven’t slept with him before. God, what if I wanted it? What if it wasn’t about Rhodey at all?” He can barely get the words out, his throat feels so constricted and his chest really really hurts. This can’t be normal. He feels like he’s dying. Drowning on dry land, and he knows a thing or two about that.

She doesn’t grab him and shake him because she does understand what he’s going through, but he sees the desire in the little flicker of rage in her eyes. “Tony Stark.” She speaks slowly, like he’s a child, but it’s still a little hard to focus over the roaring in his ears, the raging thoughts consuming his mind. She grabs his hand so hard it hurts, and he finally looks at her when he feels his bones starting to give a little. “Listen to me very carefully. This is in no way your fault. Say it.”

He can’t. He should have stopped it. Called his suit or never have let Rhodey join this damned crusade in the first place. Nat presses his hand over her heart, and he feels her slow, even heartbeat, a sharp contrast to his own. She breaths slowly, loudly, deliberately, and he finds himself trying to match her pattern. It works better than he would have expected. Some of the feelings of sickness ebb and his heart beats a little softer, but his chest still hurts. He feels sore.

“This is not your fault.” She repeats again, deliberate and strong, and he realizes that she isn’t lying to him. Her heartbeat doesn’t increase and there’s no sign of deception. She really believes that this isn’t his fault. 

“This isn’t my fault.” He finally manages to say it and she nods, even smiling a little. He feels a quick second of relief, lets himself relax a little against the bed. 

He finally manages to fall back asleep with Natasha standing guard.

***

The next time he manages to claw himself out of unconsciousness, Pepper’s on his other side, being a little obvious in her forced nonchalance. Well, she is the first person he’s talked to that’s not going to know exactly what to do. Somehow, it makes him feel a little better, and a little worse because he doesn’t want to put this on her. This isn’t her fault… any more than it is his, he reminds himself. If Nat believes it then he damn well can try to. 

“She wants to be here for you, don’t be a jerk.” Nat doesn’t even look up from the her book, leafing through it and holding it one-handed since Tony’s still gripping her other one for dear life. He could let it go and make her life easier, but when he tries he just can’t get his hand to open.

“Are you hungry? Thirsty? Is there anything you need?” Pepper’s voice is a little higher pitched than normal and her smile is too-bright, obviously forced. She does, however, magically produce a glass of water and how stupid is it that seeing water makes you realize just how thirsty you are? 

He manages a weak smile at her, he really is grateful though as he hauls himself up and drains the glass in one go. The movement is exhausting, which is absurd because judging by the light he can barely see through the curtain he’s been asleep for quite a while. Being healed by magic never leaves him feeling this tired. He doesn’t feel particularly upset, a little wired maybe like he can’t relax, but his heart is still pounding hard enough in his chest to feel like it’s making a bid for freedom. Nat takes an obnoxiously loud breath in, holds it, and breaths out slowly. He frowns for a second before it dawns on him she’s doing it for his benefit. It’s been a rough few days, he’s entitled to a little mental slowness.

Mental slowness.

“Rhodey.” 

Oh God, Rhodey. 

Tony jerks forward and really only succeeds in tangling himself in the blankets before throwing himself on the floor in his haste. How could he have been so stupid?! He’s been lying in bed, wallowing over his poor, sad life and Rhodey might already be dead. 

“Tony! Tony stop!” Pepper’s kneeling next to him before Tony even manages to untangle himself, reaching out a hand to grab his shoulder. She doesn’t mean to frighten him and tries not to feel horribly hurt when he flinches and jerks his arm away from her. “Rhodey’s fine, Tony. His trial got moved to tomorrow.” She manages a little smile, masking her hurt, but doesn’t touch him again as he slumps back against the ground, breathing hard. 

The soft turning of pages in Natasha’s book and her too-loud breaths fill the room for a few minutes. Pepper doesn’t dare move and Tony’s just too exhausted. He tries to match his breathing to Natasha’s, at least tries to feel relieved that Rhodey’s alive instead of guilty for not thinking of it sooner. And just like that, he’s back on his carousel of horrible thoughts. 

“It’s not like I hadn’t slept with him before.” He can’t even meet Pepper’s eyes as he whispers it, because it feels like he’s hurt over nothing. It was nothing they hadn’t done dozens of time, maybe a little rougher but, hey, tensions were running high. “And Loki didn’t exactly force himself on me.” 

He’s just so confused, it just feels like he shouldn’t be as upset as he is. He’s had with, literally, a hundred or so people, all kinds of sex. It was just sex. Just another night. So why does thinking about it make his heart hammer and bile rise in his throat? Wasn’t it worth it to save Rhodey’s life? Can’t he just be grateful that Steve’s sparing his friend? This time he is sick, but Nat’s ready for him, holding the little trashcan from beside the bed under him. He hadn’t even heard her get up. She pets his head gently and patiently waits for him to exhaust himself before hauling him back up on the bed. 

He feels disgusting, like he should scrub off all his skin in a boiling shower, but he’s also too worried that a shower can’t fix this. At some point, fear really does become his greatest enemy. 

Pepper brings him a wet cloth for his face and grabs his hand like Nat did earlier. She may not know much about this, but she’s absurdly smart, she’ll learn. “That doesn’t make it okay.”

They spend the rest of the day curled on the bed, Tony and Pepper watching mindless daytime television and Natasha reading something that looks suspiciously like a novel about pirates. He gives himself the day to mourn, to panic, and to start learning to help himself through it all, because tomorrow he’s going to have to get back to work. Possibly for Nick Fury. So, for today, he just lets himself lie in bed, cocooned in blankets, under the watchful eye of the two fiercest warriors he knows. 

And if he lets them keep the despair at bay for a few hours while they pretend that everything’s going to be okay, then no one has to know.


End file.
